


Young Outlaws

by melxncholly



Category: DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Families of Choice, Gen, Guest Appearance by Team, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason has feelings, Jason's ignored crush on Roy, Kinda. hes 15 and short how is he gonna scare drug dealers like that, Koriand'r is a good friend, Language Barrier, Lex Luthor and Deathstroke are seen but aren't rlly important other than like, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Roy has finally been introduced guys, Talia is a good mom, Tim Drake is Robin, about eight chapters in, bruce angsts abt his kids and its sad, for a moment - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melxncholly/pseuds/melxncholly
Summary: At fourteen, Jason Todd died. Six months later he woke up screaming in his own grave.Koriand'r was first, a princess, then, a prisoner of war. And now, now she was stuck on an alien planet, where no one could understand her.Roy Harper? Roy Harper was never going to be a prisoner, a pawn, in someone else's plan ever again.Somehow they come together, and make something of themselves. Something better.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> me: oh wow i have so many things to finish  
> monkey brain: START THT YJ!OUTLAWS FIC YOU AND KAT HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT DO IT NOW  
> me: well alright then
> 
> thank you to my wonderful friends Kitty and Kat for looking over this and helping with whatever mistakes they saw <3

At fourteen, Jason Peter Todd died, scared and alone, wanting his father.

Six months later, he woke up in his own grave and crawled his way out.

Hurt, scared, alone, and wanting his father. 

So far, Jason’s life had been nothing but one hardship after another.

He didn’t remember much after crawling out of his own grave, other than the thoughts of ‘ _Bruce_ ’, ‘ _I want my dad_ ’, and ‘ _Survive_ ’ cluttering his already crowded mind.

Then, nothing.

Jason’s mind was empty, and his body moved on instinct. Eat when hungry. Find food when there was none. Seek shelter from the elements, and just _survive_ \- something that had been ingrained in him since he was small.

( _Hiding from Willis when he was drunk, trying to protect his mom- Catherine? Sheila?- Living on the streets, hurt, broken, and so alone until the Knight descended on him--_ )

That’s where he found himself, tucked in the dirty alley corner. Garbage surrounding him, old cans long empty, and damp cardboard boxes where he made his home. The cold, stone wall dug into his back, and the tall wooden fence to his side dug splinters into his arms. The cold seeped into his bones, and he curled in closer on himself.

His clothes were dirty and too big, too thin, his face pale and gaunt. Old wounds and scars littered his body, but Jason’s mind was too far gone to know where or how he got them. His hands still ached, fingers still sore from digging, digging, _digging out of his own grave-_ His nails, only starting to grow back. The splinters that were there were long gone now.

That alley is where he stayed, until they found him. _She_ found him. Men dressed in black, making forgotten memories tug at the back of Jason’s mind, and in the back, a woman with dark hair and a beautiful face. Her eyes were bright green, her voice gentle and familiar. Jason knew he knew her, at one point. Somewhere he could remember, remember gentle looks, not at Jason, but someone _more_ , and the soft spoken words of _Beloved_.

Somewhere, he trusted her. So when she extended her hand to him, he took it, and stood.

Miles away from Gotham and her streets, her Knights, her birds, and her bats, Jason Todd fell into the Lazarus Pit, screamed, and _remembered_.


	2. Chapter 1

Koriand’r was a princess, a warrior.

The hope for her home, for all of Tamaran.

For peace, she was enslaved, beaten, tortured, _experimented on_.

All for Tamaran.

But now, she was nowhere near Tamaran. She was no longer housed in a dark cell for her people’s enemies to hurt anymore. Now? Now, Koriand’r was a prisoner of a people she knew nothing about, on a planet she knew nothing of.

Her cell wasn't quite a cell. There was a window on the door that allowed her to see her captors walking by. A small wash area where she could relieve and clean herself. The room was white, as well as the bed, with its soft sheets and softer pillows. Her captors were not cruel, but they were not quite kind. They came with meals for her, and left quickly, paying her no mind.

When she had first awoken there, she had screamed, tried to fight, use the powers she had acquired to beat down the walls of this place, but they were gone. Or not gone, rather, but locked away somehow. Bubbling under the surface of her skin, energy that needed release but found none. The collar that locked around her neck, Kori suspected, had something to do with her abilities seeming to up and vanish.

And then she had cried, and hid underneath the bed until someone had brought her a meal, and left.

She had been on this planet for all of four days, and she was tired. She wanted to go home.

 _But home is not for me-_ she thought, and it was better like this. At least Tamaran would be safe.

The _hows_ and _whys_ of her journey here were unknown to her. She remembered people talking, barterring while she was in her drugged out haze. Kori had tried to fight, and was knocked out in return.

That was never fun.

The next thing she knew, the people her captors were arguing with had exchanged hands, and a collar was snapped around her neck. She’d felt a prick in her arm, and Kori was gone, lost to dreams and old memories, _good_ memories where, if only for a little while, things did not hurt so much.

She remembered waking up during the journey, only to be drugged back into a restless sleep until she woke up in her current room.

The people of this planet, and the planet of itself, were strange. She had seen people come and go, and it made her homesick. They looked like her, like the people of Tamaran, and the brief glimpses Kori had seen of the outside world had reminded her of her old home.

It wasn’t the same, wouldn’t be the same, but she could pretend, if she closed her eyes and thought of home, it was like Kori was still there.

* * *

Kori’s days were marked by routine. She had lost count of how long she had been there. It didn’t really matter anyway, there was no way for her to return home, to Tamaran. She was exiled after all. Enslaved to keep her home safe (then sold like cattle from one captor to the next.)

Her days started early in the morning. Food was brought, bland and tasteless sludge it seemed, with water and different, new fruits on the side.

Then there was testing, always testing. The collar was never removed, but sometimes, a power of hers would be unlocked. Kori had no idea who controlled it or where, but every time, she felt a little more free, a little stronger.

But every time, if she was getting too cocky, too confident, if she tried to run or remove her collar, a shock would wreck her body, and back into her white room she went. Kori learned quickly not to try and escape.

Sometimes they’d have her fight people in black, who were faster than her, stronger, but she gave her all, never backing down. The ones who watched these fights didn’t seem to mind if their people were hurt, or even killed. Sometimes she’d even catch glimpses of the ones who watched her fight. A bald man who would often talk with the scientists They’d call him _Luthor_ , but the sight of him just made her mad. He held her freedom, a little remote that could lock and unlock her abilities, and activate the shocks if he wished, or when Kori tried to fight back. She hated him.

There were others too, like the beautiful woman with the long dark hair and eyes that were the brightest green she had ever seen, or the man with the dual colored mask and the long silver hair, who had perhaps every manner of weapons on his person.

Sometimes her captors would have her fight those two. She never won those battles.

Every so often, they would even have her fight a boy. He was quite a bit smaller than her, but strong. They were equally matched, tied in skill, but Kori, with her powers, often had the upper hand. She didn’t like winning those battles. His eyes shone with the same fury that her own did when she caught a glimpse of her reflection. They shone with pain, of someone who was hurt, of someone who fought for everything in their life.

She would see him around the compound occasionally, trailing behind the large man with the dual colored mask or the beautiful woman with dark hair and the green eyes. He always looked angry, and beneath that anger, he just seemed sad.

Lonely.

Even though he had no chains, the boy looked to be just as much of a prisoner as Kori was herself.

But Koriand’r never saw him other than those brief moments or when they fought. Then she’d be brought somewhere else. Somewhere with the same sterile white, with experiments that would test her abilities, then back to her cell with the soft pillows and a bland meal when it got dark. The lights would go off, and she would be alone in that room and sleep until the morning came, and her days started all over again.

* * *

 It’s the first time Kori realizes something is wrong when she wakes up this morning. Her days had been marked by routine, and, until now, nothing had stopped that.

She sits there on her bed legs pulled up and tucked to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her gaze remains on the door.

She was a prisoner, but Kori’s captors had never deviated from the routine, and so far, they hadn’t arrived with the morning meal. A heavy weight settles in her stomach, cold dread rushing through her.

 _They forgot about me_.

She was stuck there, powerless with that collar around her neck. **“I’m going to die here,”** she says out loud, more to fill the silence than anything.

She was going to die, on this strange planet with its strange people and their strange language.

She was going to die not understanding why she was brought here or if anyone even cared.

The minutes ticked on, and gradually, she hears others from the small window on her door she can see people running past, hear shouts. Explosions. They were under attack. The room shakes, and Kori throws her hands out to steady herself. The bedroom lights flicker, and an alarm starts blaring. 

Kori stands slowly, and makes her way over to the door, standing up on her tiptoes to see through the window. She can’t see much. The facility always looked all the same to her. White halls with people wearing the same white uniform. There were many different rooms, all with their own tests that strapped her down and stuck things in her, trying to figure out what made her tick.

From down the hall, Kori can hear weapons firing. The shouts of guards. She can see a figure run in front of her door, stopping, and Kori jumps back. The facility, where ever it was, must have been under attack. Whoever this was wanted to hurt her, or at least get rid of her.

 **“No.”** She refuses to be beaten here. Kori is a princess. A warrior. Whoever this was, she will not go down without a fight.

With a sudden lurch, the door swings open, and she pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of her possible attacker. The boy she has sparred against, seen so frequently around, is standing there. He is dressed in some sort of black armor, not so different from the man with the strange mask, except it looks less bulky, more suited for someone who is quick on their feet, fast, not unlike the woman she often saw him with. He holds a weapon in his arms, a knife, strapped to his thigh. Blood is smeared on his forehead, caked in his hair, and dying the white streak red. He holds a hand out to her, motioning for her to follow him, speaking in his strange language.

 **“I don’t know what you’re saying,”** Kori says, her arms lowering just a fraction. She knows he is strong, has fought against him enough times to know. He has a mean punch, but he is also small. Smaller than Kori, and perhaps younger too, his face not fully formed out to a man’s just yet, the last remnants of boyish baby fat still clinging to his cheeks.

He makes a frustrated noise, his face contorting into anger for a brief second as he glances down the hallway.

He speaks again, holding his hand out to her, and he sounds nervous. Somewhere in the facility, they hear an explosion, and the room shakes beneath her feet. Kori whips her head to wherever the sound came from.

She looks at him again, takes a deep breath, then takes his hand, and they run.

It’s practically deserted, wherever they are going. Shards of metal and glass dig into Kori’s bare feet, and the boy’s hand is tight in hers, but they don’t stop. Every so often they slow down, his head whipping around before they dart into a hallway, or into a different room. Where they are, she had no idea. For the longest time, all Kori had known was her room, the halls, and the experiments. The explosions get louder, and Kori fears that the floor will just fall apart underneath them.

But he knows his way around, and eventually, they get above and out of the white halls and into fresh, open air. The wide open sky, although not her own, almost makes Kori want to sob. She is so close, but the victory feels short lived. Waiting at the top for them is what Kori assumes to be a small army. The bald man, _Luthor_ , her mind supplies, stands there waiting for them. The man in the dual colored mask stands behind him, arms crossed.

The beautiful woman is nowhere to be seen.

The boy pushes her back, positioning himself between her and Luthor and the man with the weapons. It is a sad sight, the two of them standing there, facing down men who could kill them with little effort. Luthor holds in his hands the little remote that can kill her, and Kori tenses, rubbing at the collar around her neck.

The alarms keep blaring, the quakes seem even stronger. The boy and Luthor talk, and Koriand’r wishes she understood this language. He yells at Luthor, and the boy steps back, closer to Kori, as if he could shield her, protect her, and something aches in her chest at that.

Luthor says something, and the next moments happen in slow motion for Kori. Her savior rushes towards Luthor and leaps at him. Luthor presses a button on the remote, and all Kori can feel are shocks coursing through her body. She dimly realises that the screaming that she hears is coming from her own throat. She convulses on the ground, and she sees the boy wrestle with Luthor. The man with the mask grabs him and throws him to the ground, away from Luthor, and then- the pain stops.

She can feel the energy bubbling under the surface. On shaking legs, she stands. The pain, she can look past that. Her eyes glow, she can feel the energy she holds gather in her hands.

 **“You!”** She points to Luthor, stalking forward. **“You have made a** **_deadly_ ** **mistake!”** she screams, and before the man with the mask can act- she _flies_ at Luthor.

It’s the best feeling in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my knowledge of kori is extremely limited, and when i say limited, i mean i know about her from the teen titans cartoon, and those n52 animated movies where jason and tim dont even exist lmao
> 
> i did do my research tho, and dude, my heart breaks for her. reading her wiki, she's really been through so much.
> 
> i toyed with the idea that the people that attacked tamaran bc of komand'r ended up getting in contact with the light somehow, and they ended up trading kori for whatever power vandall savage promised them. kori ofc knows nothing of this. and i know that in some canon, when kori kisses someone she can learn that language.
> 
> thats pretty cool, but i like the idea of that language barrier between her and the other, and that she and the boys learn each others language. this chapter im sort of meh with, but hopefully you guys find some enjoyment from it!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a friend looked over the previous chapter for me and helped edit it, so there might be some changes if you guys wanna take a looksie

To say Jason didn’t owe Talia anything would be a lie.

Nothing in the world was free, that was something Jason had learned when he was young.

Talia had done more for him than he had ever expected, or deserved.

She had given Jason his life back. She took _care_ of him. Loved him.

That was something Jason wasn’t sure he could ever repay.

And despite it all, she kept on giving.

Lessons, training, teaching Jason skills that he would need to succeed in this world. _Their_ world. He had not doubts that she wants to groom him for something, something that would be beneficial to the Light that her father served.

That Jason’s little resurrection and dip into the pit _meant_ something. Something beneficial. That he wasn't just brought back for nothing.

But sometimes she looked at him with a sympathetic look, and would gently touch his cheek. It would bring Jason back, to when he was small. Living with his mom in their small, crappy apartment. She would touch his cheek, so soft and gentle, and give him a smile. 

 _'That's my boy Jay. You make mama so_ _proud._ ' she'd say.

He's not sure how to feel when Talia does it.

It's not that he doesn't appreciate the gestures, or the lessons, or the training. He does, but sometimes, he misses home. Misses Gotham and her dirty streets. Her violence, how it was never quiet at night. And sometimes, when he's sure he's all alone, he misses her bats. Her protectors in the night.

He misses his dad.

He doesn't want to miss him. He wants to hate him, and he does, deep down he hates Bruce. What he is and what he stands for. He hates that Jason had meant so  _little_ to the man who should have been his father, that he kept the monster that killed him alive.

That he  _replaced_ Jason like he was nothing.

But even so- somewhere he doesn't want to feel that way. He wants to go  _home_.

But he won't be able to. Not stuck here, at this compound in the middle of a rain forest, all the way in Brazil. Talia knows this. 

Jason just doesn't know when she started planning for him to  _leave_.

“Jason,” Talia wakes him up, a cool hand gentle on his cheek early that morning, before the sun rises. “Jason I need you to listen to me.”

He narrows his eyes, sits up, and tries to school his face into something serious. Sleep hadn't been easy for him, not since he crawled from the pit. It was rare for him to get a full nights sleep, especially with the hours he keeps. Up early to train and practice, go to bed late due to late night drills and lessons. 

Nightmares in the middle of the night, waking him up.

It makes him grouchy, irritable. If he was in Gotham, he'd be sleeping til eleven, and getting up for a late breakfast with Alfie and Bruce. He'd be going to the movies, or staying out with the team. Planning for his birthday.

He's barely sixteen, and has lost his childhood. He knows how to kill men in at least fifty different ways, has trained with the best assassins in order to give them another soldier in their army. A childhood has never been meant for people like Jason, or people like Talia for that matter.

It's sad.

“Jason,” Talia says, bringing him from his thoughts. She takes his hands in hers, and her voice is so soft that Jason thinks that maybe this is some sort of test. “I need to know what you want.”

He blinks at that, staring at her.

“I want my revenge,” he says after a moment. _I want my dad,_ a small, traitorous voice in him says.

“Then you will have it.” Talia’s hand is gentle on his cheek, and she presses a kiss to his temple before standing.

“Get dressed, be ready. When you feel the tremors, head to the surface, find a transport.” She presses a paper in his hands, and her fingers linger in his hair for a moment before she goes to the door.

“Be safe Jason,” is the last thing Talia says to him.

The she leaves, as if she was never there in the first place. 

He looks at the note she left in his hands- or rather, instructions- and reads it over twice before pulling his uniform on. He sits, and he waits. He watches out his open door. The compound, usually so busy with life, is eerily empty. It’s unnerving, but Jason does as he was instructed, waiting until-

The tremors knock him over, the sound of the explosion bringing Jason back in the worst way-

_The explosion, ripping into his body, the ringing in his ears; he’s trapped and under mounds of rubble, and where is Bruce-_

He gasps in air, stands on shaking feet, and runs.

Each quake threatens to throw him off his feet, and he finds dead scientists as he runs. He can hear screams from those unfortunate enough to run into Deathstroke’s men.

Jason knows the protocol. Only essential personnel would be allowed to leave, knowing what had happened in these halls.

The operation the Light has there is impressively manned; Deathstroke's own mercs, along with Ra's al Ghul's assassins. But the League was gone, and Jason knows this. Talia's own men would have been there, and the scientists are the only ones laying there shot up and bloody. Telltale work of Wilson's men taking on clearing non-essential persons out.

The League, they were deadly and graceful. The mercenaries employed were just brutes.

He comes across two of Deathstrokes men in the hall, and Jasons's hand itches for his knife. They stare each other down, the two mercenary, and a skinny fifteen year old. Jason knows he must be a sight to see, wide eyed and panicked, adrenaline coursing through him.

The one lowers his gun, takes a step towards Jason. “Come on kid, the boss wants-” The rest of the sentence is cut off by a garbled cry as Jason lunges forward, his knife stabbing through the man’s neck. Goon one falls, wet gurgling coming from him, and the other steps back, letting his bullets spray towards Jason.

Jason’s been taught by the best though. He’s young, but not stupid. Talia and Bruce have taught him _better_. He ducks under the spray, tucks his elbows in towards him as he moves, and thrusts forward. The knife sinks in through the catches of the man's armor as he stabs, hot blood coating the blade and spraying onto his face. Jason puts his weight into it, forcing the man onto the ground, and keeps stabbing.

The man tries to get his hands on Jason, one fisting itself in his hair, the other trying to curl around his throat, but its too late. Jason doesn't stop until he goes limp beneath him.

It brings him back, back to crime alley, back to the streets. He remembers watching a man get stabbed to death when he was ten, right outside the alley he was hiding in. Jason remembers hiding in the corner, his hands covering his mouth to muffle any sounds, and running when the assailant left.

When he was safe, he threw up. Then cried, because he had been so  _scared_ , and what if that had been  _him?_

Jason swallows the bile in his throat, grabs the dropped gun, and runs. Logically, he knew that this was what the training was for. To kill people. He’d done it before, but it didn’t get easier. His hands shake, and he watches screaming scientists run past.

His focus is solely on getting out, but that when he sees her. He stops in his tracks. He can barely make out her face through the window, but it's the girl. The alien girl Luthor had bought, and if that doesn’t make Jason’s blood _boil_. He fought her a few times, and every time it felt as if she was holding back. His bruises said another story, but she always looked at him and looked... sad.

He always thought it was pitying, but that couldn't be why. She didn't know him. Didn't know what he had been through in his life.

You can't pity a man you barely know. She didn't know him.

He can’t leave her here. Can’t let her die. Not locked up and scared. He'd feel like  _him_ if he did that, and Jason refused to feel like the monster who killed him.

Jason gets the door open,and she looked scared. But her arms are raised, and shes posed to fight him. He lowers the gun and extends his hand to her.

Jason doubts that this was part of what Talia wanted for him, doubts that this girl had anything to do with the plans she set for Jason, or what Jason had already been thinking about for months.

But he can’t leave her there. It wouldn’t be right.

"Come on! Come with me!" He says, motioning for her to follow him. She responds in her alien language, confusion written on her face. 

It feels like an eternity when she finally takes his hand. Then they run. Jason knows the compound like the back of his own hand, he'd shadowed Talia and Wilson enough to know the layout. They'd tested him on it, if he was going to work for either of them, or for the Light, he'd have to know how to study layouts, the entrances and exits of any facility he came to.

He thinks they're headed for the Northern Platform, the one that leads directly into the forest. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because they're stopped by Lex Luthor and Deathstroke, along with what looks to be about a dozen of Deathstroke's men.

There's no Talia or the League in sight.

"Thank you for finally joining us children." Luthor says. His arms are held in front of him, hands clasped together as if he's waiting for another board meeting. He's dressed in a fine suit, like he's ready for another day at the office, and Jason instinctively pushed the girl behind him. She's barely shielded by his body; she easily towers over him by a foot or so.

“Out of the way, Lex.” Jason's glad his voice doesn't crack. A teenager going through puberty isn't quite so scary, and Jason hasn't developed the rumble Bruce has to his own voice.

Lex narrows his eyes, his fingers absently playing with a remote in his hands. He can hear the girl behind him gasp, and Jason knows all too well what something like that can do. Even to those with meta abilities, the shock it can deliver could easily kill a man.

"I'm not sure how you've done it," Lex says, his eyes narrowing as he looks Jason over. "But somehow, all the work we've put into this place is falling apart. And you and our...  _friend_ here, are conveniently out of your cages, running amok." Glancing towards Deathstroke, the mercenary lifts his hand, and his men slowly lower their guns. To them it seems Jason and the girl don't stand a chance. Jason knows better.

He all but growls at Lex, his hands tightening on the gun in his grip. For all the training Talia had given him, that Bruce had given him, Jason could not displace his emotions or anger that he felt. Thanks to the pit, it felt as if it was more powerful, that his anger controlled him.

"I won't say it again." He can feel the girls eyes on his back, and Jason wants her to stop. He wants nothing more than all eyes to be off of him, and Lex out of the way. "Out of our way. We're leaving."

“Honestly boy, let’s not do this here.” He's rolling his eyes, as if Jason's just some child to ignore. “Let me take my _property_ , and let’s be on our way now, shall we?”

Jason throws logical reasoning out the window. 

If there was anything he hated, it was men treating people as property, and ignoring how much of a threat Jason could  _really_ be.

He's too fast, and Deathstroke can't even grab him til he's on Luthor. His mind barely registers that, _Hey, maybe I should take out my knife,_ or,  _lets shoot him in the head,_ before he jumped. Anger had clouded his senses. Something he always had to work that he _felt_ too much. It wasn't Jason's fault, sometimes he  _reacted_ before he thought. 

He can hear the girl screaming behind him, feels the electricity in the air behind him, and sees the panicked look in Lex’s eyes as Jason jumps. Lex hit one of the buttons on the remote, his thumb slipping on the it as Jason grabs hold of him, hands going around his neck.

The girl is strong, but no one can withstand an electric shock like that for long. Not even a powerful alien like her.

They wrestle, and Lex shout, _“Slade grab him!”_

Jason has enough time to rip the remote from Lex’s grasp before Wilson throws him to the ground.

Whatever Jason does, it must have been correct, because he looks and all he can see is bright green radiating off of the girl.

Her voice is loud, _angry_ , when she speaks.

She’s staring right at Lex.

If Jason thought Talia was powerful, this was something else entirely. Her eyes that had been a dimmed green now _glow,_ just like the waters of the pit. Maybe even brighter. Green energy glows from her hands, and her hair looks like flames. She’s not standing anymore but hovering a foot or so off the ground. She’s a vision of some sort of goddess of war, enacting her revenge against those who had wronged her.

She speeds towards Lex, grabbing him, and then she’s soaring through the sky. Lex is screaming the entire way, and Jason can't help the smile that grows on his face as he watches.

Jason wants to laugh, he loves the sight so much, but he barely has time to react as Wilson is dragging him to his feet, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“ _Shoot her down!_ ” Deathstroke shouts, and Jason’s heart sinks. No, she’s finally free, she can _run_. Jason wants to scream at her that she can go-

“NO!” he yells, and tries to grapple at Wilson, stop him from giving orders. The man grabs his wrists and  _squeezes_. Jason had Talia and Deathstroke as teachers, and while he could hold his own, he'd never even beaten them in a fight. The man has the advantage over him.

He throws Jason like the boy weighs nothing, and he lands wrong on his shoulder. Jason yells in pain, but it doesn’t stop Deathstroke from advancing towards him. He can hear the guns firing into the air, and above, he can see the girl easily maneuvering them.

Her gaze meets his, and she drops Luthor, his screaming lasting all the way until he hits the ground. It’s not fatal, Jason knows, because he can still hear the man moaning in pain.

“ _GO!_ ” Jason yells. Because she deserves to be free, not holed up in some cell, tested on like an animal. She doesn’t though, and instead, flies towards him, a bolt of green light hitting Wilson and sending him flying over Jason.

Over the shouts and noise, Jason can hear another explosion, another tremor. She doesn't slow down, and grabs Jason before flying up, high into the air until all that remains of them is a bright red streak in the sky.

She laughs, the wind rushing past her face, and she looks so happy that Jason forgets to be scared. He can see the compound, see it slowly breaking apart from above. Talia had set the explosions at the support beams. The facility itself was built over a waterfall, using the water to power the building, but now all the current is doing is destroying the building more. Jason can see the smoke rising from it, the last of the transport vehicles driving off as they move the rest of the essential personnel.

It’s beautiful in a way.

Jason looks down, only for a second. He immediately regrets it, and holds onto the girl even tighter. All the bravery he had during their escape leaves him, because if she dropped him, he’d make a nice Jason sized pancake all over the ground.

She clearly doesn’t care though; the only sound coming from her is the carefree laughter. She gives him a squeeze too, and he can feel the heat radiating off of her. She says something, and Jason doesn’t understand, but he smiles anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jasons pov thru koris chapter, sorta! i dont think i have to say that a lot of this is based off of my own personal headcanons, how they would act and etc
> 
> also should mention, i hate writing fighting scenes. its annoying and i dont like it and im good at emotions and dialogue god dangit


	4. Chapter 3

Jason has her land near a small town in the middle of Brazil, and they sit and hide in the forest. Jason tugs at the collar of his shirt, the top layers of his armor already stripped off and abandoned. He wishes he had the loose clothing his companion wore. He’d rather have the loose white scrubs she had, than the undershirt that was currently sticking to his sweaty body.

They sit in silence, swatting away bugs and other insects at the sun sets. Her fingers run through her long, fire red hair, and she mumbles something in her alien language. Jason’s not sure if she’s talking more to herself, or to him.

He wishes he could understand her.

She’s restless, he knows, she’s constantly moving where she sits, trying to get herself comfortable. He doesn’t quite understand _why_ she’s staying around him, but he welcomes the company. It’s not completely awful to have someone with him. It gives him something to focus on rather than the thoughts swirling through his head.

He stares at the note Talia had left him, the directions he should follow. She left him with money, a mix of American and Brazilian currency, and a passport. A fake I.D was tucked inside of it. There was enough money to get plane tickets to the states, and from there, enough to travel to Gotham.

But before that, they needed food. Clothes. Something to hide them in plain sight until they get to Gotham. Anxiety pools in his gut, and _how_ in the world is he going to hide this alien girl. She sticks out like a sore thumb, with her orange skin, hair like fire, and her eyes that _glow_ . She’s an unknown, and in his line of work he can’t trust unknowns. How is she going to fit in with his plans, to take down _Batman_ of all people? The questions keep swirling through his brain, the anxiety growing, and he _can’t_ have an anxiety attack here, of all places.

Jason’s so lost in his own head, he doesn’t realize she’s speaking to him until she gives him a nudge on the arm. He sucks in a breath, and looks at her. She repeats her question, and Jason’s brow furrows. “I can’t understand you.” he says.

Her shoulders tense, and she looks down, glaring at the dirt rather than him. She speaks under her breath, adjusts her now dirty white shirt, and pulls her legs up to her chest.

They’re both quiet, and he realizes, he doesn’t even know her _name_ . Or at least if she has one. Personally, she reminds him of a shooting star, bright and hot, fire trailing behind it in the night sky. _Starfire_ would be a cool name. Or code name at least. He pushes those thoughts away, things like alias’ and code names were a thing of the past, for him at least.

“I’m Jason,” he says, and looks at her. She gives him a look, a brow curving upward. She doesn’t understand.

“Jason,” he says again, pointing to himself. “That’s my name. Jason.” He points to her with a questioning look, and he can see the spark of realization in her face. It’s cute.

“ _Koriand’r!_ ” Her voice is loud, excited. She thumps her hands against her chest, and she's closer to him now, sitting on her knees. “ _Koriand’r!_ ” He doesn’t understand the rest of what she says, but he can feel her excitement.

“Koriander?” he repeats, and she shakes her head, helping with the pronunciation.

They stay like that, until the sun goes down, repeating words back and forth with each other. Jason can’t remember the last time he smiled so much. But then again, he doesn’t think his new friend has either.

* * *

 They leave under the cover of night, Koriand’r’s hand in his. He leaves the kevlar armor behind, along with the gun. His knife stays strapped to his side, and Jason leads them into town under the cover of darkness.

It’s a small town, a quiet town. Lights are strung up between buildings in the streets, and stray dogs and cats wander through the streets. There’s lights coming from the buildings, and they can hear the rowdy chorus of drunk men singing in the bars.

Koriand’r flies them up to the rooftops, and from there Jason can see someones laundry strung out for the night to dry.

He doesn’t feel too bad about stealing the clothes, but he leaves a few bills behind anyways. He grabs jeans and a t-shirt, changing quickly. The shirt has some graphic design for a game Jason vaguely remembers, but he hardly cares. It fit’s and that’s good for him.

He helps Koriand’r choose something for herself, something that could be inconspicuous enough, that could hide her until they were safe. The hoodie he grabs for her is big, with the logo of some sports team, and it looks like she’s swimming in it. The sleeves practically hide her hands, and its adorable how delighted she is by it. The leggings she picks herself, long purple and black ones, and she smiles while she rubs her hands up and down them.

He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles brightly.

He does one last glance over the little rooftop deck, and on a little side table he spots a pair of sunglasses, and a carton of cigarettes. He grabs the cigarettes and the matches next to it. He gives Koriand’r the glasses, and fits them onto her face. It helps the issue of hiding her eyes, and the carton in his pocket puts him at ease. Something he could look forward to, to keep the edge off. Hanging off the railing is a red hoodie, and Jason grabs that as well as a pair of sandals for Koriand’r before joining her again.

They make their way back down to the ground, and start their trek out of the town. The few people still mulling about in the village pay them no mind. He buys them two tickets to the nearest city with an airport, and drags them into one of those 24/7 convenience stores to pick up some water and snacks. Jason hadn’t eaten since the day before, and he’s sure it’s the same for Koriand’r.

They sit in silence at the bus stop, pressed up close next to each other. Her body is warm against his, even through the clothes. Both of their hoods are pulled up, and Jason’s sure they make quite a pair. Two teenagers sitting alone at a bus stop in the middle of the night. A suspicious sight to be sure.

Koriand’r’s hand finds his, and Jason has to fight the urge to pull it away. She’s innocent, she doesn’t deserve for his issues with intimacy to be taken out on her. And if Jason was honest with himself, it was… nice. Comforting to be able to be so close with another person. She threads her fingers through his and squeezes.

“Jason?” her voice is soft, and his name sounds strange in her accented voice. It’s nice.

“Hm?” He squeezes her hand to let her know he heard her.

She cuddles closer next to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“ _Ran’mas tamar,_ Jason.” she says softly.

He’s not quite sure what it means, but by the tone of her voice, and how she holds his hand, he thinks it could be along the lines of _Thank you._

He’s silent for a moment, before leaning his head against hers. “Your welcome Kori.” He says, and listens to her breathing slowly even out.

* * *

 The bus comes in the early hours of the morning. Jason had stayed awake the entire night watching every person who passed them.

Talia may had given him the means to escape, but it didn’t mean Ra’s felt the same way.

Jason’s half surprised none of his League had come to take them back, but then again, he’s not as good as they are. It’s possible they have been watching them the entire night, and Jason just didn’t know.

He didn’t want to think about it.

The lack of Deathstroke or his people is worrying too, but then again, Koriand’r had taken them in the opposite direction of the transports. It’d take Wilson some time to track them down, and by the time he did, hopefully Jason would be in bat territory.

The thing about the Bat and his Birds was that they were territorial, and while perhaps Wilson didn’t care about going in and out of Gotham, there was the high chance Bruce would track his every move.

The good thing about being legally dead? Jason had no record. Koriand’r was from some alien planet. They were practically invisible. No one would care if two teenagers ended up in Gotham.

He shakes Koriand’r awake when the bus comes, and they board it with the few other people going on for their morning commute. They both keep their heads down, and they snack on their convenience store chips and drink their water. They play their word game for the next few hours, repeating words back and forth to each other.

It feels like hours when they finally reach a city with an airport, and Jason tugs Koriand’r off by the hand. He tugs the passport from his pocket and flips through it, counting the money before it hits him. Koriand’r would need one to board the plane with him. The thought hits him like a brick. Koriand’r had nothing to document her by, and Jason doesn’t know how long a fake one would take. Longer than his patience it felt.

“Jason?” The subject of his thoughts squeezes his hand. She looks worried, and he tries to give her a comforting smile back. It doesn’t work.

He could always leave her. Jason didn’t owe this girl anything. Nothing was free in life, and he had a job to do. Logically, she was holding him back.

He could do it.

But he doesn’t _want_ to. The few hours he had gotten to know her, Jason enjoys her company. Her carefree smiles, the laughs she gives, how she stands in the sun and takes in the light as if she won’t ever see the sky again.

All he knew, she probably didn’t know what day would be her last. He couldn’t leave her, not after what they went through, not after what they experienced. He squeezed her hand, and tugged her along. The ticket could wait. They had enough money to stay at a motel for a few days while Jason plans their next move.

It takes them a few hours, but he finds one. One that doesn’t ask too many questions, and Jason’s glad for that. Less of a chance for the Light and their people to find them. In the room, there’s only one bed, the sheets an ugly brown and yellow. The TV sits on the dresser, and the bathroom looks like something Alfred would faint at. It’s clean _enough_ , but the tile is cracked and the water is lukewarm at best.

But it’s someplace hidden and unknown, giving Jason enough time to plan. To see where Koriand’r fits in everything.

He sits on the bed, watching as Koriand’r flips through the channels. His eyes feel heavy, and Jason’s been running on almost 42 hours of no sleep. Koriand’r looks at him, her face softening, and she lays a hand on his. She says something in her alien language, and moves to sit next to him against the headboard. Her head leans against his shoulder, and Jason finds himself falling asleep to the soft sounds of the television and Koriand’rs breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know i tried doing research on towns and cities in brazil but it was also 2:30 in the morning when i wrote this, and i just couldnt focus 
> 
> im was going to have them both board a plane this chapter and then i realized 'hey kori literally has NO id and you need that for tickets god fucking damnit' 
> 
> ... ill figure it out
> 
> anyways i hope you guys have been enjoying this, let me know what you think


	5. Chapter 4

Three days into their stay, Jason is no closer to Gotham, and no closer to finding a way _there_ . Kori (no long just  _Koriand'r_ , the alien) still doesn’t have a passport, his money is slowly going, and Jason’s patience is wearing _thin_.

Kori doesn’t deserve his frustration, but he’s mad nonetheless. At her? He’s not sure, a little maybe. He wishes she could just _understand_. That he can explain to her what needs to happen, but there is the barrier between them. She doesn’t understand him, and he can’t understand her.

Jason had bought a drawstring backpack the second day of their stay to hold their things, the few belongings they had. The passport and ID Talia had made Jason, sat in it, along with a pay-for-minutes phone Jason had bought in an effort to make contacts.

He is sorely out of his element.

He stares up at the ceiling, at the molded tiles. The paint is peeling off the walls and Jason can almost imagine he’s in his old apartment. That this is his old bedroom he shared with his mother, and that she was right outside the door, laying boneless on their couch.

Kori joins him on the bed, lounging on her side.

“Jason.” She says, her voice a pleasant lilt.

“Kori.” He replies, not glancing at her. He can practically feel the pout on her face, and she nudges his arm. She asks something in that language of hers, and he can feel his temper rising. He can’t _understand_. She knows this, just like she knows she can’t understand him.

“For the last time- I don’t _know_ what you’re saying!” He snaps at her. He can’t help it, everything's just too much, and Jason wishes that he had more direction. That Talia was here. That he wasn’t stranded in some foreign country with a girl he couldn’t understand, that they weren’t on the run, that Bruce was-

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing.

Kori looked as if she was going to snap back, and he would have yelled again, but both their attentions were focused on the side table that held his phone. They shared a glance, Kori's a look of confusion, and Jason’s one of barely concealed panic.

He moves slowly, cautiously. His gaze fixes to the window. He kept the blinds drawn their entire stay, too nervous to peak outside in case Deathstroke or one of the League’s assassins. Who's to say they didn’t finally track them down, that they were just waiting to attack.

When he answers the phone, Jason’s surprised to hear Talia on the other end.

It’s not that he didn’t expect her to track him down, but he thought he’d have some time. At least to prepare at least a little bit. He at least thought he’d be in Gotham by now.

“ _Jason_.” Talia’s accent puts him at ease, he missed her voice.

“Hey T.” Jason hates how he sounds unsure, not like himself. They’re both silent, and Jason can feel Kori’s eyes on him.

“ _When I gave you the means to escape, I never thought you’d bring the alien with you._ ” Talia’s voice isn’t disapproving, but he can tell she’s not quite please either. It’s the same tone Bruce would have, when Jason had done something extra stupid. He doesn’t miss it.

“I couldn’t leave her there T. She would have died.” Talia hummed on the other end.

“ _Perhaps- but I didn’t give you the means and ease to leave, and the opportunity to make something of yourself,_ ” she pauses, and Jason feels properly scolded. “ _Jason…_ ” she starts again, her voice softer. “ _I wish to see you be better than your father._ ”

 _He’s not my father_ , is what he wants to say. But he bites his tongue and thinks better of it. “I’m going to do what Bruce _won’t_ .” Take down the scum of Gotham and make sure they never, _never_ hurt people again. Batman throwing them away into prisons won’t work anymore, and Jason’s young, but he’ll do what he can’t. He can put them down for good.

“ _I know you will. But the girl though, how does she fit into all of it_.” He can hear movement on Talia’s end, and Jason wonders if she’s planning on moving to her safehouse.

Talia risked a lot for him. Does the light realize what she really did? Jason doesn’t know, but he hopes for her sake that they do not.

“Me and Koriand’r are in this together. She’s helping me.” To what extent, Jason doesn’t know yet. But he has ideas, plans forming. For his take on Gotham, a partnership between them.

Talia sighs, but she doesn’t object. He thinks he can hear her nails tapping against her phone.

“ _Expect a package in a day or so. I don’t want to see any more surprises_ .” It feels like Talia’s scolding him like his mom would, when Jason was six and came home covered in dirt. She had said _‘Don’t do it again_ ’ and smiled, ruffled his hair and sent him to clean up.

“ _Our mutual friends are trying to track you down. You’ve done a good job at cleaning up your tracks Jason, but I can only do so much. I trust you know what to do._ ” There’s a louder sound on Talia’s end, and she curses in a language Jason doesn’t know.

He swallows, and closes his eyes before responding. “I understand… Stay safe T.” It feels like a goodbye he doesn’t want to give. For all she put him through, Talia’s the closest thing he’s had to a mother in a long time.

“ _We will see each other again_ .” she says, and the line goes dead. Despite her words, if she crossed the Light, crossed her _father_ , Jason knows what failure means to both the League and the Light.

He puts the phone down and contemplates crushing it. He’s sure Talia was safe with her call, that it wasn’t traced, but there’s that anxiety in his gut that’s telling him to toss everything and run.

It’s similar to the feeling he got when he met Bruce, that in the end, having _anything_ to do with Batman wouldn’t turn out right in the end.

“Jason.” He can feel Kori’s arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His first instinct is to fight, push back and yell at her not to touch him.

But she cares. He knows this. Jason’s probably her first friend in a long time. Her only friend even.

He pats her arm and forces a smile on his face.

“Thanks Kori.” He can see a look of frustration on her face, and turning more he sees her mouth moving, trying to sound out unfamiliar words.

“S-Safe. With me. Protect you.” Jason blinks at her, and Kori’s smile is triumphant. The words she says are familiar, because Jason had said the exact same to her maybe two days earlier.

Maybe she understood more than he thought.

He hugs her back, maybe a little tighter than he should, but Kori doesn’t mind. She hugs tighter.

* * *

The next afternoon the front desk brings him a package from an unknown sender. On the inside it has extra money, clothes (for both Kori and Jason), and identification for Kori. It lists her as _Kori Anders_. It's a good name, a good identity for her to hide behind. 

They leave for the airport almost immediately. By the time the sun is setting they’re in the air, watching the ground go bye underneath them. The process to get tickets and out of the country was fairly easy, and Jason’s grateful for that.

 _By this time next week we’ll be in Gotham,_ Jason thinks. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Besides him, Kori sleeps quietly, her hand tight around his.

Jason hopes he's doing the right thing. For the both of them, because this isn't just Jason's mission anymore. It's hers too.

He gives her hand a squeeze, closes his eyes, and waits for Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did a shitty cop out because i just wanted to get things rolling |D'
> 
> im not..?? hAPPY? WIth this chapter but its whatever i just wanted to get to the good bits.
> 
> next chapter, gotham, some batfamily stuff, and more jason and kori being best friends. roy is like a distant dream that i want to appear soon
> 
> anyways- hope you guys enjoy!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil bruce interlude b4 getting back to th Kori and Jay show
> 
> bruce angsts abt feelings abt his kids and yeah
> 
> its 1 am im tired

When everything is over and done for, the West’s bury an empty casket on a sunny day in the middle of the summer. Bruce pays for it, and watches his son break again while his best friends girlfriend cries into his arms.

Mary West grieves over her sons grave as her husband comforts her, and Bruce thinks he was lucky.

At least he had a body to bury, they didn’t even have the comfort of seeing their boy one final time.

Dick moves back to the manor after that, and hides himself away in his room. It’s like when they lost Jason all over again, with Dick secluding himself, before running away. Dick doesn’t run away to Bludhaven, but he does make himself scarce when Bruce is around. Artemis becomes a familiar face again, like when Dick was in high school, and the two of them spend time in the manors den when they think no one is around.

Bruce isn’t about to intrude on their mourning. Losing a partner, a friend, there’s nothing like it. But Bruce knows Dick, and he knows that he will be able to heal. That Artemis will be able to survive this. The pain will be hard, and there will be days where they will miss him, but Bruce knows these children of Gotham. They’ll heal.

He worries more for Mary, and Rudy. Bruce knows the pain of losing a son. How you never really move on from that.

The heat of the summer sun makes Bruce uncomfortable and sticky. Standing at Jason’s grave always hurt. He wanted nothing more than to switch places with his boy, to give his life for Jason’s.

He’d give anything to have him back again, safe in Bruce’s arms.

All he wanted was his son back again.

Jason’s headstone was cool against Bruce’s hand. It was simple, reading _Jason Peter Todd_. There was a photo of Jason built into the headstone, a school picture with Jason’s smiling face staring up at Bruce. Angel wings carved into and around the image, as if protecting him.

“I’m sorry Jason.” Bruce says, and he can feel the careful walls he’s built up crumbling. Guilt, he thinks. Guilt for failing Jason. Guilt for being out in the family cemetery, rather inside with his boy who is grieving the loss of his friend so soon after his brother’s death. Guilt that he was still there while Jason wasn’t.

He steadies himself, takes a deep breath, and rubs the headstone before turning and heading back to the manor. It wouldn’t do Bruce any favors standing there and wishing what _could_ have been.

Wishing didn’t bring his son back.

The next day it rains, and Bruce throws himself into his work.

His boy might be gone, along with Wally, but the Light was still a danger to the League. The Team was still mourning, and while Bruce could, he'd protect them as best he could.

He's just so busy though, that he doesn't realize the new presences in his city. No one does, not until it's too late. 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I haven't updated this in so long, and im so sorry! I want to thank everyone whose read this while ive been on my mini hiatus, and i promise, hopefully there will be more frequent updates soon! ive been so busy with life and my new job that i havent had the most time to write this, but i really want to come back to it! 
> 
> also i know its only been jason and kori for a while, but i promise roy is going to come in soon!!!!! watching the new yj outsiders trailer has really got me inspired for yj again!!!! im really hoping for jason to appear in season 3, but we'll see! in any case this will always be my ideal s3 au <3
> 
> keep being awesome guys, and thank you so much for reading this

Gotham welcomed Jason home with a storm and humid summer weather a week later.  With two plane rides, and a nine hour bus trip behind them, (and not to mention Jason’s attempt to highjack a car somewhere in Texas) Jason’s exhaustion is evident.

The city is entirely unchanged, the spires of her buildings still tall and menacing. The dark, gothic architecture is just as beautiful as when he had left. The familiarity of the city welcomes Jason home, the sights and sounds, the people, it feels as if he can just ease back into his life before. He can’t, he knows that of course.

It doesn't bother him one bit.

( _I want to go home,_ a traitorous part of his mind yells. He ignores it.)

His own raging thoughts don’t stop Koriand’r from being endlessly delighted by it all. She’s pointing and smiling, staring up at the skyscrapers with delight. Jason just holds onto her hand tighter, half to keep her on the ground, half in fear that if anyone finds out _what_ she is, that the bats will just descend on them.

That, or worse.

Jason can’t have that. He won't let her go back to the hell she once had to live. They're friends now, you don't run away from a super secret evil organization and _not_ become close.

But despite it all, deep down, Jason’s a little happy that he’s back. Despite it all, despite the death and despair of Gotham, it’s his home.

Jason’s _finally_ home.

“Jason look!” Kori shouts, and Jason looks up, watching as the elevated skytrain zooms past in the distance. _Wayne_  is plastered to its side, and Jason remembers just going on trips all throughout the city on it.

It gives him a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of Bruce just _does_ that these days. If he tugs Kori’s hand a little tighter and begins to walk down the street she doesn't mention it. “C’mon Kori.” He says, and she pouts a little but follows anyways, her eyes still watching the sky.

They walk into the wealthier side of the city, where everything's a little bit cleaner, nicer. Where everything and everyone looks and acts how a perfect society is thought to be. This is where an old safehouse of Talia's was, where she stayed for work, or for pleasure, Jason didn't really care. It  _was_ a gift though, and he was endlessly grateful to her, for everything she did for him.

The bellhop doesn't seem to question why two dirty teenagers are there when they enter. Talia must have informed them ahead, and idly, Jason wonders about her safety. He hopes that she's okay, that she isn't in too much trouble. They elevator takes them up, and when they enter the apartment it takes Jason's breath away.

It's a dream come true. Big, set in the heart of the city, and everything Jason and his mother dreamed about when he was younger. Talia went all out, expensive furniture, fully stocked kitchen. There's a note sat on the kitchen table, with Jason's name written on the top in neat script. Talia's handwriting for sure. It details different account numbers, different cards they can use to provide for themselves. Where Jason can find the weapons and things he needs for whatever he's planning for his vengeance.  _"Remember, take care of yourself. Never doubt of my love. Talia."_ Jason smiles a the note despite himself, Talia's words warming his heart.

He hears Kori cheer, with delight, and he finds her in one of the bedrooms. The bed is huge, with too many pillows than it needs, and soft comforters that probably cost more than Jason can imagine. Kori laughs with glee when she sees them, and flings herself onto it. Jason smiles as he watches her, and yells when she yanks him onto the bed with her.

The rain drums against the window, and despite the gloomy Gotham weather, Jason can’t help but smile as he and Kori enjoy themselves, if only for a moment.

* * *

The days went on, and Jason’s plan went into action. During the days he and Kori would hang around, and each of them would learn more every day. Jason would teach her both english and spanish, or what his mother had taught him when he was young. In turn, Kori would teach him tamaranian, not that he was any good at it. Then they’d leave their safehouse if it was nice enough, and Jason would show her all the places he loved to go to. 

Kori loved it all. She’d hold his hand in hers as they walked. Jason would point out things that she’d like, they’d visit parks and libraries and different places for lunch, and every day when they returned to the apartment she’d pull Jason in for a hug.

“Thank you Jason.” She’d say every time. “You are a kind friend.”

It was a different story at night. He’d leave Kori and their safehouse behind, and if he closed his eyes and pretended, it felt as if he’d never even left. The rush of free falling through the city, feeling the wind and rain hitting his face. But, as always, Jason had to open his eyes and remember that he did leave. He did die. That Bruce did replace him.

His plan was simple. He’d find Robin, Tim Drake, and make him pay. He’d make Bruce hurt, he’d turn his world upside down. He’d know that he should never _ever_ put another kid in Robin’s shoes. He’d tear this city down, make him pay.

And then, after all that, he was going for Joker.

It was productive work, it made Jason focus. Focus his anger somewhere that he wouldn’t take it out on someone else.

He wanted Bruce to hurt.

He wanted Robin to hurt.

Even if it hurt Jason in the end.

* * *

“Jason, what do you do at night?” Kori asks one morning, almost a week into their stay. 

Her voice is soft as she looks at him. The breakfast sandwich he made her is half eaten on her plate, and she watches him with curious eyes.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He says, focusing instead on the eggs he’s scrambling.

Jason can practically feel her frown on his back, but he shrugs. Up until he feels something hitting the back of his head.

“Ow! Kori-” He turns, and promptly gets a piece of egg thrown in his face. It falls to the floor, and he can see part of the sandwich and the egg she picked out of sitting at his feet. "What the hell was that for!" He yells. She doesn't flinch, but instead raise an eyebrow as she stares at him.

“Are we not friends? Why do you not trust me?” Kori’s expression is hurt. The thing about Kori, is that she’s open with her emotions in a way Jason never can be. She trusts him absolutely. He knows this.

That makes him pause.

“We are friends Kori. I do trust you.” And he does, at least a little. She’s saved his life, in more ways than one. He doesn’t want to think of what he’d be like if he never met her. Maybe more angry, more self destructive. At least with Kori in his life, he has someone to focus on. To help. They take care of each other.

“Then why are you keeping things from me?” Kori isn’t mad, but she does look disappointed. Like she can’t understand why Jason would even keep something from her. “I worry about you Jason.”

“Well, don’t.” He picks up the food she threw, and tosses it in the garbage. His eggs are ruined as well, so the garbage they go. He knows he shouldn’t feel so defensive. He knows that she only cares. But Jason can feel his anger welling up, and he might as well go out and work on his plan then get in a fight with her. He pulls on his boots, and starts to the door.

“Jason… are you leaving?” Her voice sounds small, and she looks sad when Jason looks at her.

He doesn't answer, and instead slams the door as he leaves.

* * *

Jason somehow finds himself back at crime alley. It looks exactly the same, which doesn’t surprise him. Everything in this part of Gotham looks just like how it did when he was a kid, despite how hard Bruce has tried. 

He can almost see his mom sitting there on the steps of their apartment, a cigarette in her hand as she waits for Jason to come home from school.

Then she died, alone one the bathroom floor. Then Jason was the one alone, living on the streets until he met Bruce.

He walks until his feet ache, and he feels the sweat dripping down his back. He was planning to gather more information on the new Robin, on Tim, but just thinking about it puts Jason in a worse mood.

He shouldn’t be. Kori wasn’t trying to put him in a bad mood, all she wanted to know is what was going on. It’s the least he could do for her. But instead he got mad, and left her alone.

Jason couldn’t tell her though. She wouldn’t understand, and Jason didn’t want to cause her any more pain. She had already been through too much, he cared about her too much to bring her into any of his problems.

He wouldn’t have to worry about this mess one day. He’d get his revenge, on Bruce, on Gotham, on the damn clown who killed him, and one day he’d be fine.

They both would be.

He doesn’t recognize where he is until he looks up. It’s a diner he used to come to with Bruce, and it just makes Jason’s heart hurt more. Despite everything he tells himself, all he wants to believe, he misses-

The door chimes open, and Jason’s breath disappears as Bruce walks out. He’s not alone either. Tim’s on his right, Bruce’s arm around his shoulder, holding him close as they walk. Dick’s on the other side, a hand on his back.

They look happy. The look like a family, more so than Jason ever did. Tim has the same pale complexion, dark hair, and blue eyes that Jason didn’t. He looked every part of Bruce’s son. Jason darted into an alley, before they could see him. It was hard to breathe, and Jason could feel his breaths coming out in short gasps.

They looked _happy_. Happier than they’d been when Jason was around. He could hear Dick laughing at something Tim said, and Jason slid down the dirty wall. He never laughed with him like that. Jason and Dick hadn’t always gotten along, they had gotten in more fights than he could count, but…

Jason scrubbed at his face and stood on shaky legs, and ran in the opposite direction. Everything _hurt_.

He knew that they’d be better without him but… thinking it was one thing. Seeing, seeing was another.

Jason missed out Bruce’s head turned, catching a glimpse of a figure turn down the street and run.

It's late when Jason comes home. His knuckles bruised and bloody. He has a black eye and a split lip, and he doesn't feel any better. Kori hadn't waited for him, the sounds of her snoring in her own room the only indication that she was there at all in the dark apartment. Heading to the bathroom, Jason went through the motions of patching himself up until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

His hair was plastered to his sweaty face. Dark freckles stood out on tan skin, along with small scrapes and scars, some new, some he’s had for almost forever. It feels like there's some strangers eyes staring back at him, the unnatural green that seemed to almost glow. It reminded him too much of murky green water, drowning him, making him aware of what had happened, who he _was._ What he wasn't. Not anymore.

He hated it.

The sound of yelling and glass breaking filled the room. Jason found himself on the floor, glass sticking out of his knuckles as they bed. Shards of mirror surrounding him where he sat.

Jason caught himself on a sob, and cradled his hand close to his chest as he cried.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is, a long one. but holy hey an update two days in a row? boy howdy!!! ive had this scene in my head for a rahter long time, pretty much since the thought of this au even came into my head, so i hope you guys enjoy it. its pretty long too, which is exciting. next chapter hopefully we finally are introduced to roy!!!! i thank each and everyone of you whose read this for so long, and i hope you enjoy.

It’s hours before Jason cleans up the evidence of his breakdown. He pulls tiny shards of glass from his knuckles and jeans, and rinses them before bandaging them tight. The glass that litters the floor is sweeped up and dumped into the trash, and Jason takes one look of the broken mirror before he throws that into the trash too.

He goes through the motions, cleans up the bathroom, the kitchen, putting himself to work so he doesn’t have to _think_ about anything. No Bruce, no Dick, no perfect Tim Drake and no perfect families where Jason doesn’t exist in.

By the time Kori wakes up and floats into the kitchen, breakfast has been made and laid out on the table. He knows he made too much, with chocolate chip pancakes and fresh fruit, bacon and eggs and orange juice in a nice spread over the table. He feels bad, about how he left her the day before.

She sits down to eat, and if she realizes anything about Jason’s breakdown she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she smiles up at him, green eyes glowing softly. She’s waiting for him, he realizes. Not eating, not talking, just waiting for him to speak.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He says, looking away from her. “I got. Mad. And I didn’t want to take it out on you.”

“I understand.” She says, and gestures for him to sit down. He nearly collapses in the chair, his legs suddenly feeling like dead weight. “I know how you get angry, I do too,” Kori’s words are slow, as she thinks them over first before she speaks. “I think of what… happened to me. Us. I feel such anger at the ones who had hurt us.”

An understatement Jason thinks. He doesn’t know the full extent of what she had went through, and she doesn’t know what his life had been like at all.

“But… If this is. Important to you. Whatever you do, when you leave at night. I will support you.” She smiles at him, bright and shining like the sun. Jason doesn’t deserve this. Her kindness and love and support. She’s too good to him, someone broken like he is.

It’s funny. While they were on the run, these thoughts of his took a backseat as they tried to get to where they are now. Now that the both of them are relatively safe, he can’t stop thinking of how messed up he is.

“You’re too nice to me Kori.” He can feel the lump in his throat, one that he refuses to let come up. Suddenly arms are around him, pulling Jason close. Kori has her cheek pressed to the top of his head, and Jason’s proud of how he doesn’t erupt into sobs.

“Nonsense,” she says, brushing his dark curls back with one of her hands. “Friends can never be _too_ nice to each other.”

And he laughs, and hugs her back.

They stay in that day, Jason taking a well needed nap while Kori lounges on the couch. Jason’s cuddled up to her side. Kori strokes his hair while he sleeps, and it keeps his nightmares away. He feels safe in a way he hasn’t since he was little. Sleeping curled up next to his mother, as she sang lullabies in spanish. Kori doesn’t sing, but the soft sounds of the movie playing on the television work just as well.

His dreams don’t make sense. He sees Bruce and himself, walking hand in hand on the boardwalk, his mother Catherine holding his other. He small, maybe four or five, and laughs as they swing him into the air.

He stops suddenly, but Bruce and his mom keep walking, not even noticing that he’s let go of their hands. There’s a figure that stands directly in front of him, tall and imposing, and he’d be scared if Jason didn’t feel so _safe_ somehow.

They look like their wearing combat armor, and a leather jacket over it. Guns are holstered at their thighs, along with a combat knife.

They looked like a mercenary, or someone from an action movie. But what really catches his attention is the helmet. Smooth red, featureless except for the lenses that acted for his eyes. Jason’s fascinated, and he doesn’t hear the laughter until it's right behind him.

He’s turns, his eyes widening, ready to scream as the _monster_ dressed as a man is about to descended down on him, crowbar raised high. But he never gets that chance. Gunshots in quick succession down it, and Jason can only watch with grim fascination as it gurgles and dies. He looks to the figure, watching him with curious eyes, and they reholster their guns. They stare at Jason, and he sees his face in the reflection of the mask.

He wakes up with a start, his eyes wide as he nearly throws himself off the couch. Kori watches him, an eyebrow raised as she gets up to follow.

“What’s that?” She asks, standing over him. Jason’s hunched over the table, a pencil in his hand and papers underneath, sketching.

“Me,” is all he says, his pencil making soft noises as he sketches out the helmet.

Jason continues his work, both on gathering information on his target, and on his new ‘uniform’. Getting the needed materials for his helmet is hard to come by, especially with what he has specifically in mind, but Talia’s left him contacts of people who could help him.

He watches Tim during the afternoons, watches how his civilian life differ from his nightlife. School’s out, and Tim spends his time with his friends. Going to the movies, the library. Spends time with Dick as they ride around the city on his motorcycle. Sometimes old members of the team are there, Artemis the most frequent of them all. Jason makes sure to keep away. Pulling them into this wouldn’t do anything for him.

But it hurts though, seeing all of them. Even though he was never really a full and proper member, he was closest with Artemis. Maybe because they both grew up so similarly. Or maybe she felt sorry for him. Whatever it was, it hurt to see her.

Other days though, it’s just Tim and some girl. She wears too much purple in Jason’s opinion, and is a little too loud, but she seems good.

All in all, Tim’s a normal kid.

Jason can’t even describe how mad it makes him feel. He watches Tim go about his life, everything that Jason’s never had. Bruce’s approval, Dick’s love, friends of his own, the chance to thrive at school. Robin.

Jason can’t have that, not anymore. He lost all of it.

He refused to be jealous. He tried not to be jealous. But he couldn’t help the twinge of hate and the unnatural glow in his eyes as he watched _perfect_ Timothy Drake live what used to be Jason’s life.

* * *

Jason finally puts his plan into action, almost a three weeks after they arrived in Gotham. It’s almost August, and Jason can feel that in the humidity and heat of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s almost his birthday.

He would have been studying to get his driver's permit. Would have been spending his summer with Dick for his sixteenth, at Point Pleasant Beach. They’d go swimming and crabbing, and Dick would smuggle him a beer or two because that’s what older brother’s did.

He pushes the thoughts away, and focus’ on the weapons set on the table in front of him.

“These are interesting,” Kori says, picking up a pistol and peering down the barrel. “What is there purpose.”

Jason yanked it out of her hands, a glare on his face. At least it wasn’t loaded.

“It’s a gun,” He says, placing it back onto the table. “And it’s very dangerous, so you shouldn’t _point it at yourself_.”

She shrugs, not bothered by Jason’s temper.

“It reminds me of-” She stops speaking suddenly, her hand tensing into a fist. Jason forgets, sometimes, that before the Light, she was somewhere maybe far worse.

“What will you use it for.” She asks.

Jason shrugs, loading the magazines, and then holstering them to his thighs.

How do I look, as asks, after strapping his knife to his side. Jason takes a step back, and Kori looks him over.

It was hard, but he got everything he needed for his new ‘uniform’. It wasn’t took different from what he wore when he lived at the compound. Combat boots and body armor, dark pants. The difference was the leather jacket he wore, and the domino stuck to his face.

The red helmet was tucked under his arm, and Kori nodded appreciatively.

“You look very good. Handsome.” and she reaches over to pinch his cheeks. He swats her hand away, pouting.

“I’m gonna go now. Keep the window open for me, okay?” He says, before turning. He looks down at the helmet in his hands, before putting it on. It was custom made, specified to what he saw in his dream.

And not to mention the explosives laced throughout it. The thought that he was wearing a bomb on his head should have bothered him more. It didn’t. Jason didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing. The detonator sat heavy in his pocket, and he turned to look at Kori one last time before leaving.

“Don’t wait up for me.” He says, the voice modulator making Jason sound like a different person, not quite real. Then he’s gone, jumping through the window and free falling for a moment, until he shoots his grappling gun, and is swinging through the city.

Kori watches from the window,  a frown on her face. She aches to jump out along with him, feeling the wind on her face as she flies.

* * *

They had split up, Batman and Nightwing checking a disturbance down at the Narrows, leaving Tim sitting at his perch. They gave him the easy job, he knew, one where there was a low chance of him being in danger. 

Tim snorted, flicking a pebble down to the ground, off the side of the building he sat on. Tim knew it was because they cared. With Wally’s recent death, and Jason’s own horrific death weighing heavy on their minds, they just wanted the youngest of them all to be safe.

It didn’t mean Tim had to be _happy_ about it though. This was the better part of Gotham, maybe he’d call it in early, go home and get some sleep for once, or maybe work on some cold cases that have even stumped Bruce. There was after all that former Light compound in Brazil the team had found. Kaldur was trusting Tim to help them solve the mystery of it, retrieve old documents, see _who_ exactly was kept there.

The Light worked hard, but Tim Drake worked harder.

With a sigh, he stood, and then tensed.

“Hey there little bird.” A voice spoke behind him, and Tim wasn’t fast enough.

The was a sharp pain hitting him in his head, and then, darkness.

When Tim wakes up, he’s somewhere completely new. It’s also dark, a blindfold covering his eyes. He can still feel his domino on, a small relief in the grand scheme of things. He hears someone walking in front of him, and Tim takes into account of what he does and does not have.

His communicator he realizes, is the first thing. His weapons are absent too, as well at his utility belt. His arms and legs are tied tight together with rope, and he’s thankful for the long sleeves and legs of his suit, preventing his arms and legs from chafing together.

He can hear the faint sounds of the city, but even louder was the sounds of Gotham’s bay. _So, we’re at the waterfront. About thirty minutes from where I was_ , Tim thinks. Whoever this was had to have dragged him across the city to where they were now.

His head hurts, and it’s possible that he may have a concussion. He’s thankful he still has his domino on. Once Batman realized he was gone, he could find him by the tracker in between the lenses of Tim’s mask.

“So you’re awake.” the voice says, and rips the blindfold off of Tim’s face. He winces at the sudden light from the lamps around them. The figure in front of him towers over Tim, and he refuses to show him any fear.

From what he can hear, the voice sounds masculine, but it’s hard to tell with the modulator changing it as he speaks.

“So, not going to say anything?” He laughs, and Tim glares at him as best he can from behind the mask. “No questions? Nothing?”

“Who are you.” Tim finally asks. He’s no one that Tim recognizes, not one of Batman’s rogues, or any other heroes that he knows of. A new player?

“You can call me the Red Hood.” He answers. His stance is relaxed, gloved hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Red Hood, an alias that has been used by many different people over the course of Gotham’s history, including Gotham’s very own Joker.

Tim wonders what kind of relation could be there.

“Why am I here,” Tim asks, leaning forward to peer up at him. “What could you possibly _gain_ by taking me? Batman’s going to come after you, you know.” His voice is steady, his plan already forming in his head. Keep Hood talking, get him to reveal his plan. Batman would come soon enough when Tim didn’t check in. He was probably already on his way.

“ _You’re_ here,” Hood starts off, kneeling in front of him. “Because Batman doesn’t know _when to stop_.” A finger jabs into Tim’s chest, pushing him back against the wall. Tim watches him carefully, his body language, how he talks.

He actually doesn’t look much taller than Tim, now that Hood is knelt down to his level.

“What do you mean.” The longer Tim drags this out, the longer Bruce would have to get him.

Red Hood laughs, a sharp and mechanical sound, and then grabs Tim by the hair. He winces, and grits his teeth together as the mask  goes close to his face. “You hear about the bird before you? Some would say he flew too far from the nest and BAM!” Hood bangs Tim’s head against the wall, and he sees stars.

“He got whacked. By a maniac. A maniac who's _still_ out there!” Hood stands, pacing back and forth. “And he goes out and gets _another_ one.”

Tim glares at him, but Hood’s not done. Hearing of Jason, hearing the man _talk_ about him, makes Tim’s blood boil. Jason was his _hero_ -

“It seems like Batman hasn’t _learned_ from his mistake. He brought another one, another soldier in his war.”

Tim grits his teeth, anger bubbling up inside him. They were more than that, _Jason_ was more than that-

“You’re wrong, Batman doesn’t think of us like that. He’s _going to come._ ” Tim protests. He doesn’t know what he gains from arguing with this man, but he does know what he says hits home, at least a tiny bit.

“He’s not gonna come, don’t try to fool yourself.” Hood seems so sure of himself. He knows that Bruce is already tracing his tracker- “That tracker of yours is being blocked by an EMP. A portable, nifty little thing I made. So like I said. Don’t fool yourself. He’s not gonna find you.”

Tim’s quiet. But still, Batman’s resourceful. Bruce is smart. He’ll figure out a way to find Tim.

“You’re new,” Tim says finally. “Batman always comes, you don’t know him at all.”

“I know him better than _ANYONE!_ ” Hodd screams at him, and Tim doesn’t know if he imagined that crack in his voice, or if it was just the modulator. “He will tell you he cares, and then say you’re not doing good enough. He’ll work you to the _bone,_ and _never_ give you an ounce of recognition! You will _never_ be as good as who came before you- isn’t that right Timmy?”

The laugh Red Hood has is almost hysterical, as Tim recoils and stares up at him. Hood takes the knife that's strapped to his belt, idly playing with it. He’s quiet now, and Tim doesn’t know if that’s better or worse.

“How-” Tim starts, but Hood cuts him off.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” He says, before throwing the knife at him. It sinks into the wall, right above Tim’s head, and he shudders.

“Why. Why are you doing this? Because I’m Robin? To get back at Batman? Why?” It doesn’t make sense, it’s all jumbled in his head, no real plan.

“Because,” Hood says. “He didn’t do _fuckall_ about it. I-” he catches himself, and that starts the cogs in Tim’s head again. Hood stalks over, and grabs a fistful of Tim’s hair. “A kid _died_ , he was _murdered_ by some madman who’d be better off _DEAD!_ ” The fist in his head gets tighter, and Tim winces. “And Bruce. Did. _Nothing_. He didn’t get that son of a bitch, and instead gets a replacement before the bodies even cold-” He stops himself suddenly and lets go of Tim. He stalks to the table that's in the far corner, and leans against it.

From where Tim’s sitting he can see his shoulders shake. Whoever he is, and Tim’s got a sinking idea of _who_ , was deeply affected by Jason’s death. He knows who they are, and Tim doesn’t want to think of what that could mean if that information got out.

“What do you want…?” Tim asks.

“I want to make him _hurt_. Like how he hurt me.” He replies. They’re both quiet for the moment, thinking to themselves.

“Are you going to kill me?” Tim asks suddenly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. His eyes are closed, and he hears a strangled gasp from Hood. Tim opens his eyes, to see Hood has gone shock still.

He says nothing, until finally rasping out “ _Oh God…_ ” The man nearly collapses, broken whispers of ‘ _Oh God_ ’ and ‘ _What am I doing_ ’ as his breathing gets louder and raspier. Hood shakes, gasping for breath under his helmet.

‘ _He’s having a panic attack_ ,’ Tim realizes suddenly, as he watches this man gasp from where he sits.

“Hood…?” Tim asks, leaning forward a bit, and he yells as Hood stand suddenly, his hands catching a release on his helmet. He throws it to the ground, and his breathing does not get any steadier.

“Holy shit.” Tim can’t help but stare. He knows that face, has photographed it enough times to have it burned into his memory. The portraits of Jason in the manor don’t hold a candle to the real thing.

His curled dark hair is plastered to his face, a stark white streak in the middle catching Tim’s attention. The dark freckles are still there, dotting his face, and his face has only slimmed a fraction out of the baby fat that was still prominent.

“Jason-” Tim whispers, and he stares at him. Jason whips his head to look at him, and his tanned skin in pale. There’s tears in his eyes, Tim realizes, and he can’t even imagine what has happened to get him here.

He’s seen the photos. He knows Jason died. Bruce wouldn’t make a mistake like that.

Jason hurries over to Tim, and grasps the knife from the wall, yanking it out. Tim flinches, and maybe Jason’s going to kill him after all-

“I’m just. Just gonna cut the ropes. Fuck, I’m so sorry. What was I thinking, I’m so fucking sorry.” He mumbles, cutting through the ropes tied around his legs. “You’re just a kid, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

It breaks Tims heart. He wants to tell him it’s okay. That Tim forgives him. That he didn’t even _hurt_ Tim that bad and that he’s been through worse. That Jason is his _hero_ . That Bruce never stopped loving Jason, that he never wanted to replace Jason, that _no one_ could replace him.

He wants to say it all, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“ _ROBIN!_ ” Nightwing screams. A Wingding flies through the air and digs itself into Jason’s hand. He yells, dropping the knife, and runs.

Nightwing rushes to Tim’s side, cradling him protectively, and Tim tries to move, to struggle away-

But Jason’s already gone, along with the helmet, and Bruce is hot on his trail.

“It’s okay Timmy,” Dick says, holding him close. His voice is thick, like he’s holding back tears, and Tim closes his eyes.

* * *

 It took Bruce too long to find Tim, if they were only a fraction later, he’d be burying another son. He refused to lose any more of his family.

He can’t deny that he paused when the kidnapper yelled, he sounded so young, so familiar- But it didn’t matter. Whoever they were, Bruce would take them down.

The assailant was fast though. Thunder cracked in the distance, and the waves lapped up at the side of the pier they ran on.

The man, more of a boy, really, was eager to hide his face. He launched the Wingding Nightwing had thrown at him towards Bruce, but it was sloppy, and he easily evaded it. He was close, and reached out to grab the man, until suddenly the helmet he wore was thrown at him.

Bruce caught it easily, and gave pause when he heard a slight ticking.

Bombs have always made him uneasy. The boy kept on running, and Bruce had no choice but to drop the helmet and run in the opposite direction. The explosion was loud, and made Bruce’s ears ring in a way that was eerily similar to a different explosion, not long ago. He was thrown back, and he skidded to the ground, his back aching in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

He stood on shaky legs.

“Nightwing, how’s Robin.” Bruce turned, and used his grappling gun to pull him up high.

 _“Robin’s okay, he’s got a slight concussion, but otherwise fine.”_ Bruce gave a noise of confirmation, as Nightwing continued to speak.

_“I contacted Tigress, she’s on her way to help. Did you get the bastard?”_

Bruce surveyed the area, made rounds, but from the looks of it their mystery man had vanished without a trace. He lets himself back down, and picks up the discarded Wingding, the mans blood still fresh.

“No,” Bruce spoke, annoyance clear in his voice. “But we might have something to help us find who it is.”

* * *

 Kori gave a yawn as she idly clicked through television channels. She missed Jason, she missed being able to move freely. She didn’t enjoy hiding out in this ‘apartment’ like something that should have been hidden.

She wasn’t oblivious to the stares of the people of Gotham, she knew she was… different, to these humans.

Although there were similarities between the humans and Tamaranians, no human looked quite like her.

She stood, stretching her arms above her head. Perhaps Jason would be home when she woke up, then they could speak of them leaving. Having some _fun_ . Her friend had been too uptight lately, rather stressed in her opinion. She smiled to herself. Yes, she would take him out. They would get this human confection known as _pizza_ and enjoy a day together.

Thunder cracked, and a crash sounded behind her. He eyes and hands glowed green, as she turned to look behind her, hovering slightly off the floor. If there was an intruder she would-

It was no intruder, but instead, Jason. Trembling Jason with blood seeping out of his hands and tears falling from his eyes.

“ _Kori_ ,” He choked out, and she was on him in an instant, falling to the ground and heaving the boy into her arms.

“Jason, what is wrong?” She asks, and hold his face in her hands. He looks at her, green eyes unnaturally bright and he sobs.

“I-I messed up Kori, I messed up really fucking badly-” He tries to get away from her, to stand, but she holds him tight, brushing the tears from his eyes.

“Jason…” She begins, but he shakes his head, his eyes distant.

“I. I saw _him_ and God, Kori. He’s just a kid, he’s a kid like I was a-and he thought I was going to- How could I do that Kori! A-and m-my dad he, he _hates_ me and so does Dick a-and I fucking messed up-” he trails off into babbles, and Kori can do nothing but hold him.

It breaks her heart, to see her friend so hurt. Ever so gently, she helps him stand, and sits him down at one of the table chairs.

“I will be right back.” She says, and presses a kiss to his forehead. She’s quick, flying to his room to gather comfortable and clean clothes. Sweatpants and big t-shirts Jason prefers to wear for bed. She’s back in an instant, and gently helps to take off his body armor. His domino was gone when he arrived, and Kori can only imagine where he must have left it.

She dresses him slowly, like how she remembers her mother dressing her as a child when she was sick and unwell.

She leads him to the couch, where Kori had made a nest of pillows and blankets from the sheets of her bed, and tucks him in before sitting herself besides him. He’s still crying, but softer this time. No more of the harsh sobs that tore itself from his throat.

She holds him, and brushes his hair back from his head, and murmurs soft words to him until he falls asleep.

Kori doesn’t know Jason’s story, and perhaps, that should change. All she knows is that he has been hurt, hurt so terribly that it makes him vision and judgement clouded at times. But no matter what happened to him, she loves him.

X’Hal bless her, she would cast hell on all those who have hurt her friend. That she swore.


	9. Chapter 8

The bus slows to a stop, splashing dirty water up onto the sidewalk. A young man steps off, more of a boy really. The faded green cap he wears is hidden under his red hooded sweatshirt.

His posture is relaxed and calm, despite having been dropped off in the worst part of Gotham. The torrential downpour of the rain doesn’t bother him, and he reaches a hand up to adjust the cap on his head. All in all, he looks like any other teenager one would see in the city, despite the large black duffel bag that hangs off his shoulder.

He adjusts the bag, and stretches his arms in front of him, one pale and freckled, the other a sleek and black metal prosthetic.

Sighing, he steps out from under the cover of the bus stop and walks into the darkness of Gotham’s streets.

* * *

“I’m going to bed.” Tim says. His hair is damp from the shower, his cheeks flushed pink from the hot shower Alfred had rushed him to. The teenager was practically swimming in his pajamas, an over sized sweatshirt and sweats. 

“Tim-” Dick starts, but the boy is already rushing up the stairs, past Alfred and into the manor.

Alfred watches the boy go with tired eyes, before turning his gaze onto Dick and Artemis. Dick gives Alfred a tired wave from where he sits. His legs feel like jello, and he doesn’t want to think of the other times he’s felt this anxious and scared.

Artemis is standing behind him, hands squeezing Dick’s shoulders.

“Hey Alfred.” Artemis says, and her voice is soft. Dick had caught her up on their drive back with Tim, and it was hard to pinpoint what his friend was feeling.

Alfred smiles warmly at them both, and sets the cups of hot tea down to the side before going to his charges.

“Miss Crock, a pleasure to see you.” He says, opening his arms for a hug and Artemis nearly throws herself to him. It makes Dick smile to see. When they were younger, before she knew of his double life as both Dick Grayson and Robin, Artemis was over often. It was Dick, Barbara and Artemis, a constant trio in high school, and once Artemis finally found out that her friend Dick and her teammate Robin were one in the same, her presence in the manor was a near constant.

Of course, she retired, along with Wally, and they moved in together once they reached college.

Then Wally died, and she was back. Dick didn’t know for how long, but if he could help his friend, he would.

“Miss Gordon was unavailable I assume.” Alfred says, pulling back and tucking a lock of blonde hair behind Artemis’ ear.

“She’s leading a mission with the team tonight, I offered to cover her patrols.” Artemis says, pulling back.

Dick’s smile falters, thinking about Barbara, his team, how he spectacularly failed. No one would say he failed them, but Dick knows.

Jason, Wally, and now, almost Tim. He couldn’t even be there to help Kaldur lead the team they created, and what kind of person did that. Foist the responsibility onto his friends to do something he should be doing.

 _I’m_ _lucky,_ Dick thinks, _to have friends so understanding. I don’t deserve-_ His thoughts are broken by Alfred in his view, carefully helping to peel the Domino off his face.

“And you have returned early with young Master Tim I see. How is he doing?” Dick shrugs, and Artemis takes over for him.

“He seemed alright. A slight concussion, but he should be fine.”

Dick winces as the Domino comes completely off, the spirit glue the only evidence of the mask even being there. Alfred sighs as he takes in Dick’s red rimmed eyes, and cups his cheek gently.

“Why don’t you both freshen up and go upstairs. I’m sure Master Tim would appreciate your company.

Dick shrugs, and Artemis opens her mouth to speak, when the Batmobile screeches into the cave. Bruce exits, pulling the cowl back and he looks up to where his young charges are and sighs.

“Artemis. Dick.” He nods to each of them and slowly walks up to the computer. He sets the bloodied Wingding onto the computer console, and sits slowly. His body aches from being thrown by the explosion, and all Bruce wants to do is to go upstairs and sleep for three days straight.

“Get some rest.” He tells them, opening his files and pulling up documents that could connect anything to the man who kidnapped Tim.

“What!” Dick yells, and Bruce doesn’t even need to turn to see that his son was headed towards him. “We can _help_!” Bruce is turned in his chair, Dick hovering over him as his son glares down.

“This guy could have _killed_ Tim and you want us to go get some _rest!_ I don’t think so!” The anger is clear on Dick’s face. Bruce knows how hard this hits him, all of them. He can only imagine that once Barbara hears she’ll come straight to the cave rather than her apartment when her mission is done.

Bruce turns his chair back around, and sets up the blood analysis for the Wingding. “You’ve done enough Dick.” Bruce says, and it’s true. In this past year his oldest son has been through more than Bruce knows. Artemis as well. He’s put so much onto his kids, the least he could do was give them their own time to grieve.

“You do realize that if we were _late_ he would have _killed him!_ ” Bruce doesn’t answer, because he knows. He knows it so well. Tim, who was so bright and smart, who may be an even better detective than Bruce- Tim who liked to tinker with his computer and play board games with his friends and who had gone through so much- thinking of his son dead brought up emotions Bruce didn’t want to deal with.

He didn’t want to bury another son.

His silence only makes Dick angrier, and he hears the growl in his voice when his oldest says his name.

“ _Bruce-_ ”

“You’ve done enough Dick,” Bruce says, cutting him off. Alfred and Artemis are quiet as he speaks, and Bruce can’t even bring himself to look at _them_ , not to mention Dick. “The both of you have. Thank you.”

The _Thank You_ throws Dick off, and Bruce can feel the stare from him on the back of his head.

He hears Artemis walk up to stand besides Dick, and she sighs softly. “Let’s go upstairs ok.” She says, and she sounds so different. This past month has been hard for her. For all of them. “See how Tim’s doing. Put on some of those bad B movies you both like.”

“ _The Room_ is a cinematic masterpiece thank you very much.” Dick argues, but goes with her regardless.

“He did just thank me right, I’m not hearing things?” Dick says as they go up and back into the manor, and Bruce has to stop himself from wincing.

How has he failed so badly as a parent that it was rare for him to _thank_ his children. If he could go back-

There was no use in thinking about it now.

“Perhaps you should take your own advice Master Bruce. See how young Tim is doing.” Alfred says, playing the part of the ever loyal butler.

“I will after I’m done.” The analysis is slow to start up, and Bruce wants to yell. He’d have to ask Lucius to take a look at the computer again, or Barbara once she was back. “We don’t know if or when this maniac might make another pass at Tim. I need to protect him.”

Bruce wouldn’t fail Tim like he failed Jason.

“What you _need_ to do sir,” Alfred says, turning Bruce’s seat around once again, “Is to be a father to your children. Tim must be _traumatized_ Bruce, you cannot just leave your children to comfort each other during these times.”

Alfred’s stare is unrelenting, and it makes Bruce feel like he’s ten again, stealing desert for himself before dinner.

Alfred has always been his constant companion, his guardian, his father, and the man is smarter than Bruce will ever be.

It doesn’t stop Bruce from trying though.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’ Master Bruce. You have the rest of tomorrow to work on the case. The analysis will not be finished until late into the afternoon, at least.”

Bruce smiles, something sad as he moves to stand.

“You’re right.” He says. His knees ache, and all he really wants to do is soak in a bath until he’s a prune. “You’re always right Alfred.”

The man smiles, and pats Bruce on the back as they leave.

“Of course I am Master Bruce. You just never like to listen to me.”

* * *

The apartment complex was located in the East End, an old abandoned building that had been slowly falling apart over the years and filled with squatters of different kinds. 

This didn’t seem to bother the teenager at all, as he took the crumbling steps two at a time, and shouldered the large door open.

Despite it pissing rain outside, the interior was at least a little drier. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell as he walked up them, stopping at the fifth floor. Pulling a note and key out of his pocket, he scanned the door numbers as he walked down the hall, mumbling quietly to himself.

“Four-oh-three… four-oh-four… four-oh-five, aand there we are. Door four-oh-six.” He tosses the key in the air for a moment, before catching it and unlocking the door.

Stepping inside the apartment, the boy heaves a sigh and smiles, dropping his duffel to the floor and locking the door behind him.

The safehouse isn’t the most luxurious of places, but it’s fully furnished with a bedroom and bathroom, a small living room completed with a crappy tv and coffee table, and a small kitchenette. There’s boxes of non perishable food stacked on the counter, and his stomach growls loudly.

Shrugging off his red sweat shirt and hanging his green hat on the door knob, Roy Harper smiles softly to himself. After weeks of sleeping on benches and in the backs of buses, he finally had a place to call home.

Temporarily, but still, home.

He toes his shoes off, leaving the beaten old sneaker sitting with his duffel and jacket, and drags his tired body to the bathroom.

He strips himself out of his old clothes, and rolls his shoulders as he turns on the water for the shower.

He’s not sure how Dinah had gotten this place up and running, but he’s happy she did. The woman was kind enough to lend it to him, and even kinder to keep hush hush about it to Ollie.

He runs a hand under the spray of the water, and waits for it to heat up, and instead looks at himself in he mirror.

He isn’t a pretty sight.

His exhaustion is evident, the purple bags hanging heavy under his eyes, his face gaunt and pale. He grimaces at the sight of his buzzed hair, and runs his prosthetic hand through the short strands. It was getting longer than what he prefered, it needed a cut soon.

He looks like a different person than the boy who woke up in that hospital bed months earlier, and he feels older than his sixteen years.

It’s hard to differ himself from the clone that lived his life, and although he made his peace with it-him, it was hard to feel jealous sometimes. It was hard to feel like _he_ wasn’t the one who was living a lie.

Roy doesn’t look away until the steam fogs up the mirror, and he makes a poor excuse of a smiley face in it before he steps under the hot spray of the water. He hisses at the water hits his back, turning the pale skin red as Roy begins to scrub himself down. He goes through the motions of getting clean and after a moment he barely registers the scorching water.

He’s glad for the burn it gives. It makes Roy feel alive. That he’s still real, that it’s still him.

He gets out shortly after, changing into sweats and a t-shirt, and makes himself a meager dinner of three am cup noodles before clicking on the television and spreading his notes out onto the coffee table.

He’s been half way around the world at this point. From Tibet to America, and to and from counties in between, Roy’s latest track was from a small village in the middle of nowhere in Brazil, from where Lex Luthor was flown to a nearby Brazilian hospital where he was rushed in for urgent care.

The bastard lived, of course, his injuries not as severe as the human stain made them out to be.

 _Not at awful as getting kidnapped and having a limb amputated_ , Roy thinks, and maybe he's a little bitter. So what, he was allowed to be.

His files had bits and pieces of scandals and shady deals that Luthor, and in association, his friends of the Light, had their fingers in. Each and every bit of information hacked or researched from the dark web, or taken from a ‘source’ or two, if Roy could even call them that.

It had gotten him digging, what reason would Luthor be in Brazil, especially in an unknown little village? If he was there, the Light must have had something to do there.

Thus, a spontaneous Brazilian getaway, complete with finding the ruins of an old facility swarming with Deathstroke’s personal militia and Ras al Ghul’s league.

He spoke to a ‘source’ there. A, currently assuming, former colleague of Deathstroke's himself, who said that the facility was holding onto some assets. Meta humans that would be trained and work for the Light. According to them, two of them had managed to rig an explosion and get away. Their assumed target was Gotham city, home to the Bat.

It was amazing what Roy could learn when no one was there to tell him that he was going too far.

And now, in Gotham, all Roy had to do was find them. How hard could it be?

He yawned, and stretched his arms above his head before placing his meager dinner on the floor and stretching out over the couch. Closing his eyes, Roy fell asleep to the rain hitting the window, and the chaotic sounds of Gotham City.

As Roy slept late into the day, the news changed to an emergency broadcast.

The Joker, once again, had broken out of Arkham and was loose in Gotham.

His whereabouts? Unknown.

In the cave, Bruce rushes to don his suit. Joker was his priority, and as of that moment, Robin effectively benched until further notice. Something Tim was keen to show his displeasure of.

It didn’t matter though, Bruce wouldn’t have that maniac touch another one of his kids for as long as he lived. Joker was out there somewhere, and after Tim being in such a close call the night before-

Bruce couldn’t handle it again if something happened.

His computer beeps as he hurries towards the Batmobile, signalling the completion of the blood analysis. He hadn’t been able to come down earlier to check, too busy spending the day with his family.

He feels guilt, both for ignoring his duties as Batman, and for the thought that spending precious time with his _family_ was to be put under his work. Nothing was more important than his family, time like that could easily be ripped away.

Bruce knows he should hurry, that Nightwing, Batgirl, and Tigress are already out there looking, but Bruce can’t help the curiosity that compels him to look. To see who it could have been that hurt his son.

Opening the window, Bruce wishes he could take it back.

His bloods run cold, and he thinks he's stopped breathing all together.

On the screen is a face Bruce Wayne hasn’t seen alive in nearly two years.

**POSITIVE MATCH: JASON PETER TODD**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally roy!!!! i really wanted to get him introduced, and i struggled a little with both how to bring him in and how to write him. its a learning experience for me, because like kori, my only real experience with roy is from yj. though im researching more and more about him! he's about half a year older than jay in this au, and sort of living on his own, going from place to place. i feel like hed have a lot of disassociation from himself due to his life sort of, ykno, being stolen. he knows hes the 'original' but sometimes its just hard to remember some days, and he doesnt deal with it in an entirely healthy way
> 
> also some batfam stuff! i always loved how artemis sort of went to school with dick and barbara. i feel like theyd all be a lot closer than canon let on, thus arty being a sort of official unofficial member of the batfam. it pisses ollie off a lot bc thats HIS sidekick/fake niece whom he loves very much not bruces. its all good tho bc artemis knows how much oliver cares (another relationship i wish we saw more of in canon D<) 
> 
> anyways, i hope you guys like his chapter!


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning for some suicide idealization here! mentions on both bruce and jasons parts.
> 
> the first part is also a flashback, hence the italicizes

_“You’re staying here.” Bruce says, taking long strides towards his study. Tim runs after him, not able to match the pace Bruce has._

_“But Bruce-” Tim starts to argue, but Bruce stops suddenly, Tim connecting with the brick wall that is Bruce Wayne._

_Bruce rounds on him, face unreadable._

_“The Joker is_ not _a game Tim. You’re benched until further notice.”_

_Tim feels years younger than the fourteen he really is, staring up at Bruce. He feels like a little boy pulling at his dads pants leg, begging him to stay home, just this once._

_Tim grasps at the arm of Bruce’s shirt, fisting the fabric in his hand._

_“I can help! I’m okay!” Bruce needs him to know that, that he’s alright, that he can still help him. That Jason is still out there too- who might need their help even more._

_Bruce’s eyes are distant, and Tim knows he’s thinking of Jason in these moments. Guilt pulls at Tim’s heart, Bruce needs to know, he can’t keep this secret-_

_Bruce has already tugged Tim’s hand away, walking into his study before Tim can even realize it. He runs after him, slamming the door open as he watches Bruce input the codes for the secret entrance to the cave._

_“Bruce!”_

_“I said no Tim.”_

_“But you need me! Who else is going to watch your back! I can help-” Tim’s protests die in his mouth when Bruce turns. His face betrays nothing but his eyes tell everything. The anger he feels, the fear. Tim’s not the best at reading body language, not like how that girl Barbara is training is, but he knows Bruce is upset.”_

_“I have a thousand and one reasons as to why you will_ not _be joining me,” Bruce starts, heading towards Tim. “First, you have a concussion, second, your attacker is still at large, and third- Joker is unlike_ anything _you have faced before.” He’s standing in front of Tim, and Tim has to crane up to look at his adoptive father._

_“But I’m sure any carefully constructed reason I have for you, you will not listen to me. So for simplicity's sake, I’ll say this. You. Are. Staying.”_

_Tim glowers at him, watching as Bruce straightens himself and returns to the grandfather clock._

_“You can’t make me! You need me out there Bruce!” Tim finally yells to his back._

_Bruce pauses as he inputs the codes to the cave, and turns to look at Tim. He sighs, and inputs something different into the panel._

_“What… what are you doing Bruce?” Tim asks, walking slowly over to see._

_“You’re locked from the cave indefinitely.” is Bruce’s easy reply._

_Tim stares at Bruce’s back as the hidden entrance slides open._

_“You… you can’t do that!” Tim yells at Bruce’s back as he starts walking. “Bruce! You can’t do this!”_

_Bruce pauses in the entryway._

_“I_ can _and I_ am _.” Bruce says. “Goodnight Tim”_

_The door slides shut easily, the Grandfather clock shifting back into place._

_Tim is left there, angry tears welling in his eyes._

* * *

Tim ignores the knocks on the door, and continues to angrily looks over the camera footage he had downloaded to his laptop. He downloaded it last night, after he had gone up to bed. 

Finding Jason was more important, and there was hundreds of place Jason could have gone to after getting away from Bruce.

Tim can only _imagine_ where Jason could be right now. Somewhere in the streets, distraught and alone-

It’s morbid, but Tim wonders how _exactly_ Jason came back. He’s seen the pictures, of Jason. He’s seen the pictures of his autopsy, because Bruce is the sort of person to keep those things around on file.

Probably to hurt himself more, but Tim doesn’t care.

Well, he does, but he’s mad at Bruce.

It doesn’t take long for Tim to _finally_ find a lead after hours of work from the night before. He smiles to himself as he watches the footage. A figure flies through the sky, the downpour pelting them. Their grapple shoots out, and he moves in a way that Tim could never forget.

Even if Jason hated them, he moved like them.

The footage is grainy, but it’s a lead. He’s in the richer districts of Gotham, flying through like he owns the sky. Tim’s not sure _where_ he’s staying, but it’s someplace to start.

Tim wasted enough time just sitting around doing nothing. It was time to work. Jason was out there somewhere, alone, and so was the Joker.

On his life, Tim wouldn’t let a repeat of last time happen.

Tim was eternally grateful to Bruce, but he’d never be his son. Not like how Jason was. Bruce’s entire world, the son who could do no wrong in his eyes.

Even after he was gone, Bruce thought the world of Jason.

It was almost too late for Bruce when Tim became Robin. Bruce would have thrown himself into the grave himself if he could have one more day with Jason.

After all Bruce had done for him, taking Tim in after his own parents deaths.

The least Tim could do was bring Jason back home. Back to Bruce.

Even if it meant that he had to disobey Bruce’s orders once in a while. It was what Jason would do.

Jumping up from his bed, Tim ran to the closet. He pushed clothes and shoes, old board games and other stupid knick knacks out of the way to get to the box hidden in the back.

“Bingo,” he said, dragging it out.

Despite his hacking prowess, Tim couldn’t get into the cave. It was Barbara’s own code that ran it, and though Tim was good, he wasn’t that good yet.

But, it didn’t mean he didn’t have a spare he could borrow.

* * *

The cigarette carton is crushed in Jason’s fist. Cigarette butts are littered on the ground around his feet. His bedroom window is opened wide, catching the last rays of the sun. The night is clear, no clouds in sight as he watches the inky darkness of the night descend onto Gotham. 

When he was small, Jason loved going up to the roof with his mother. They sat there snuggled up together and watched the sunset together, talking about the future. When the future seemed like anything could be accomplished.

_“Well when we win the lottery,” Catherine had said, brushing Jason’s curls back, “We’ll get a big house.”_

_“It needs a big backyard for our puppy.” Jason said, with all the knowledge a five year old could have._

_She laughed, kissing his forehead. “Of course baby.”_

He curses, dropping the cigarette in his hand. He had been so lost in his memory, Jason didn’t even realize it had burnt down, the ashes burning the pads of his fingers.

He sighs, pushing his hair out from his face. Jason looks out at the skyline once more. The night slowly taking over the last rays of the sun, making a portrait of yellows, purples, and pinks in the evening sky.

It’s beautiful.

It makes Jason want to throw up.

The events of the night before just keep playing over and over again, and Jason doesn’t want to think of it at all.

Jason almost _killed_ Tim.

Bruce had _seen_ him.

He’s messed up inside. Angry, hurt, confused, and somewhere deep down in him, there’s something that just wants to let go. The side he’s always ignored, never tried to succumb to. Everything Jason’s ever done has only been to protect himself.

He came back wrong. That much is clear.

He looks out, down to the city. It’s a long fall.

Maybe it would be easier. To just let everything go again.

At least then he wouldn’t hurt so much.

He closes his eyes, leans forward, and when he opens them again Kori is there in front of him. Upside down.

Her hair is firey waves, flickering as she hovers before him, green eyes stern as she stares him down. Displeasure oozes from her features, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Jason screams, and falls back, her sudden appearance catching him off guard.

“Jason.” Kori says, and twirls so she’s floating the right way but makes no move to come into the room with him.

He scrambles up, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the room. Panic flutters in his chest, and he can only _imagine_ what would happen if one of the Light’s goonies had seen her.

Anger replaces the panic, and he turns on her. “What the hell was that! Someone could have seen you!”

“I was not seen.” Kori’s tone is easy, and she brushes imaginary dust from her leggings. Now that she’s here, Jason can actually _look_ at her.

She’s dressed for a day out, he realizes. Black leggings tucked into brown boots. Her grey tank is covered by a purple cropped jacket, and she has her sunglasses tucked into the pockets.

“Wait a second.” He says, and drags his hands over his face. “Have you been _gone_ all day!”

“I have.” She says, and she holds a hand in front of his face before he can explode. “Since you have shut me out from your room, I went out myself. You did not wish to talk, so I did not push it.”

“Kori, you can’t even _begin_ to understand how fucking dangerous that is-” Jason’s silenced by her finger jabbing itself into his chest.

“Then understand me _this_ Jason Todd! I have been kept here for _weeks_ just waiting for you to return! And yet, when I ask of why, you push me away! I am _done_ !” Her hair flickers as she lays into him, green eyes glowing fiercely. “I refuse to be a prisoner in a place I am to call _home_!”

Jason takes a step back, as she takes a step forward.

“If there is so much danger to this Gotham, why do we stay? Why do you not speak of them to me! What is the purpose of why we are here!”

Jason turns away from her, guilt eating at him. He can see his reflection in the glass of the window, and Kori angrily advancing towards him.

He can see the green glow of her eyes through the reflection. It reminds him of the Lazarus Pit.

The thought makes him want to be sick. He wished that he had more smokes.

“Do not ignore me Jason Todd!” Kori yells, grabbing his shoulder to turn him. “Answer me!”

“ _I DON’T KNOW!_ ” He pushes her away, stumbling into the wall. Kori stumbles backwards too, and stares at him.

“ _I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!_ ” He screams at her, and his hands fist themselves into his hair. “I thought I had a plan, but I don’t and I don’t. Fucking. Know, because it all fell apart!” He chokes on his yells, feeling the telltale lump of a sob making its way up.

It’s funny, in a grim way. He didn’t cry when he crawled from the pit, or when he was trained to exhaustion, Wilson and Talia pushing him in every physical and emotional way they could, in an effort to make him ‘strong’.

Yet, a few weeks with Kori back in Gotham have him on the verge of breakdown every few days.

The tears come despite his effort not to cry, and Jason slides down against the wall.

“Then _why_ ,” Kori asks, setting down on the floor in front of him, “Do we not just leave?”

“Be-because… I don’t know.” He can’t bring himself to look at her.

Ever so gently, she pries his hands away from the tight grip in his hair, and tilts his head to look at her.

The glow from her eyes had dimmed, and she just looks sad now. Jason made her look like that, and he hates it.

“That does not make sense Jason.”

“I know.” he says, and wipes at his face with his shirt sleeves. “I _know_. It’s just…” He trails off, unsure of what to say.

Kori rolls her eyes, and mumbles something in her own native language as she helps him up from the floor and leads them into the kitchen. She sets Jason at the table, and grabs him a water bottle from the fridge before joining him.

“First,” she says, pointing to the window he had burst through the night before. “Explain this to me. What happened.”

Jason can see the news playing on the television behind her, and he wants to be anywhere but here.

“I was trying to get back at someone.” He says, looking away from her. She reaches over, making him focus on her once again.

“I do not understand that phrase.”

He resists the urge to bang his head on the table. Kori was a fast learner, but he often forgot about the things she still did not understand.

“I- It’s like.” He sips at his water, and runs a hand over his face. “Revenge. Someone hurt me so I wanted to hurt them too.”

“Did you?” Kori asks, her gaze never leaving his eyes.

“No. At least, not the person who deserved it.” He stares into the table, his eyes following the wood grain pattern of it.

 _“Are you going to kill me?”_ Robin asked, and suddenly _Jason_ was the monster with the crowbar. What did it matter who was wearing the suit, Jason might as well have been the same sort of monster to Tim.

“I. I was _angry_ and Tim was an easy target and. And I hurt him but I was _wrong_ . I hurt someone who never did anything to me, a-all because of. Because of something _else_ and I didn’t even know him!” Jason closes his eyes as he takes in a shuddering breath. _This is it_ , he thinks. Kori is finally going to understand how broken he is. How evil, and awful, and she’s going to leave him behind and-

“It is simple.” Kori’s voice halts his train of thought, and glancing at her, she looks contemplative more than disgusted. “We find the right one who hurt you, and destroy them.”

It sounds so simple coming from her, and Jason wants to laugh, but the noise gets caught in his throat making it out to be a half laugh-half sob.

“It’s not that simple Kori… you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then let us understand each other. Help me so I can. We are friends Jason.” She lays a hand over his, eyes soft as she looks into his. “I made a promise to you. Safe with me. I will protect you.” He thinks back to that shitty motel in Brazil. The first real words she really spoke to him, ones he could understand.

“Kori… I,” Jason’s words die in his throat. The television captures his attention, with the words bold and large on the screen.

**BREAKING NEWS ON RECENT JOKER DISAPPEARANCE**

Jason jumps from his seat, running towards the couch where the remote sat. He puts the volume on high, his eyes glued to the screen, not even registering Kori calling his name or walking up beside him.

Vicki Vale looks grim as she speaks into the camera.

_“As many of you know, recently this evening the rogue Joker was reported missing from his cell in Arkham Asylum. Recent footage taken from the Asylum have reported that the so called ‘Clown Prince of Crime’ was smuggled out earlier this morning at around one am.”_

Jason swallows thickly. That lined up with the time he had kidnapped Tim.

_“The Joker had used a ‘dummy’ so to speak, to stand in for him as not to rouse the suspicion of the guards. The GCPD, as well as Gotham’s resident Batman are hard at work, trying to discover how the Joker escaped Arkham. At this time, we do not know the current whereabouts of the Joker, but we urge citizens of Gotham to stay in their homes and away from populated traffic areas.”_

An image of the Joker flashes to the screen, an example of what the maniac looks like to urge any ‘concerned’ citizens to call it in if they see him. The remote cracks under how hard Jason is gripping it, and he chucks it at the screen.

It shatters, the images distorting the images on the screen.

“ _Him_ ,” Jason growls, pointing to the now distorted image of the Joker. “He _killed_ me. I want him dead.”

“Only him?” Kori asks, her hand slipping into his, squeezing it tight.

“No. I don’t want him _just_ dead. Batman. I want Batman to kill him. I want him to cross his _precious_ code. If he doesn’t….” If Bruce had any love for Jason at all, if he ever cared about him in the slightest, he’d do it.

If not, well, Jason knew where he stood then.

“We will take them both down.” Kori answers for him.

Jason nods, and squeezes Kori’s hand back.


	11. Chapter 10

The sounds of the city echo around Artemis. She watches with tired eyes as cop cars and ambulances speed past.

There’s been no sign of Joker so far, and that puts them all on edge.

Despite not really being a ‘Bat’, Artemis was something of an honorary member. More Dick’s words than hers. She had known Bruce for years, Dick only a little longer. She had lived in Gotham all her life, and they all had done so much for her and her family.

The least she could do was help patrol some nights, and be ready to help bring in the Bat’s rogues when they called.

But the Joker, or all people…. He made her sick. She couldn’t stand the clown, and that he was still alive-

Just thinking of what he had done to Jason made Artemis was to kill him herself.

The only thing stopping her was Bruce. Even if she thought he was wrong, she wouldn’t kill him. Not yet.

Artemis hears Barbara before she sees her, only because Artemis knows Barbara wants her to hear.

“How’s your new protege Batgirl?” Artemis asks, glancing over at her friend.

Barbara straightens, slipping her grappling hook back to her belt.

“She’s good. She’s learning a lot, I’m thinking of introducing her to Bruce soon- the Clocktower is getting a _little_ crowded.” Barbara says, coming to stand next to Artemis.

Artemis smiles. “She’s not coming out to play tonight?” She asks, nudging her friend.

Barbara shakes her head, a sigh on her lips. “Cass _wants_ to be out here now. Its…. hard for her. Hard for all of us. She’s still adjusting.”

Artemis nods, her eyes turning back to the city.

“It is for all of us. How old is she again?”

“Sixteen- a little older than Jason.” She trails off. “He would have liked her.”

Artemis puts a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “I know… hey, when all of this is over, can I come by to meet her?”

“Sure thing. Robin should meet her too.” She says, and takes her grapple back out.

“Hear he was benched tonight.” Artemis says, doing the same.

“It’s better this way.” Barbara says, her eyes distant, thinking of a different boy wearing the colors not too long ago.

Without a word, the two grapple away in search of their target.

* * *

The gadgets are outdated, but still useable. The uniform is only slightly tighter than his own, but it worked for Tim.

Dick’s old Robin uniform worked like a charm, and Tim was lucky he was still on the smaller side, or else he’d never be able to pull this off. He had taken the uniform months earlier, without Bruce or Dick knowing. Originally he had wanted to study it, see how he could improve upon the design and ‘toys’ so to speak he had just… forgotten to return it.

But it didn’t matter. Not now, as he flew through the city feeling freer than he had in two days. No Batman, no Nightwing, no previously dead boy kidnapping him.

But thinking of Jason again set a pit in his stomach. He had to find him, bring him home, for Bruce.

He flew through the city, soaring through the wind, to where Jason had last been seen.

* * *

They left through the living room window, keeping it open so they could have an easy way in. Their bags were left on the table, containing only the essentials they needed for when they left the city. 

Their plan was simple. Find the Joker, take the Joker, get Batman to come to them, and then, have him kill Joker.

If he didn’t, then they’d kill them both.

It wasn’t the most air tight or thought out plan, but Jason either didn’t realize it, or didn’t care. He was working off pure adrenaline right then, and the remaining effects of the pit.

Kori, it seemed, was just excited to be out and doing something.

When all was said and done, they’d return to the apartment, get their bags, and leave Gotham. Never stepping foot there ever again.

Kori flew above him as he swung through the city, her hair like flames trailing behind her as she flew.

He smiled, tumbling through the air before shooting his grappling gun again. Amusement mile was nearby. The clowns very own kindgom.

The clowns days were numbered, either by Jason or Bruce’s hands.

He’d never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

Roy can feel the sweet pooling down his back as he walks. He adjusts the hat on his head, and resists the urge to strip off his jacket. The prosthetic would be too open, and who knew _what_ kind of people would see that and want it for themselves. 

Maybe he was paranoid, but his paranoia kept him alive this long.

Sighing, he rolls his shoulders. Roy looks up, hazel eyes staring up to the sky, past the skyscrapers and apartments. The nights dark, and it’s uncharacteristically quiet out, especially in the poorer parts of Gotham.

He can only assume this Joker is to blame. It really was Roy’s own fault, sleeping in so late. Maybe it was time to give up for the night, to go back to the safehouse and find out more information about his supposed ‘assets’. He might have missed his window to find the assets, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He doesn’t even know where to start looking.

His stomach growls loudly, and Roy’s ready to turn it.

But then, there it is. What he needed to start looking. A brilliant red figure, flying through the sky, flames trailing behind them.

Something smaller, more lithe, flies underneath them. Roy watches the two go, mouth open wide until the disappear around a bend of buildings.

Grinning to himself he runs after them, following the remaining flames flickering in the night.

* * *

The quiet of the batmobile sets Bruce on edge as he drives from Arkham Island. No Nightwing, talking his ear off, no Robin, connecting the clues and piecing together their investigation, no Jason- 

He can’t think of Jason right now.

The Joker was his objective. The Joker _had_ to be brought in. Bruce cannot let recent discoveries distract him from his mission but-

What if his son was _alive_.

If it wasn’t some trick being pulled on him by an enemy who knew too much. If they were able to get his sons blood- the thought that cadmus _cloning_ his dead son leaves a sour taste in Bruce’s mouth.

If it really was Jason, why kidnap Tim? What did this mean for their family?

Was he alright, hurting? What he being taken advantage of by someone, brainwashed?

Bruce doesn’t know what he wants. For this to be a clone of his son? Or his son returning from the grave? A sick joke from his enemies or something worse.

He can’t let himself be distracted. For the moment, the Joker was the mission, too important to be distracted over.

And then, when everything was said and done, Bruce would exhume the grave. Would find out what this really, _truly_ was. Until then, Jason would have to wait.

* * *

Amusement Mile is eerily quiet as Jason and Kori explore. Jason had never liked this part of Gotham, even before his death. 

It always put him on edge, reminded him of some horror movie where the killer tracked the teenagers and picked them off one by one. The kind of movie where you yelled at the T.V, wondering how they could be so stupid.

Jason quietly hopes that's not what tonight has in store for him.

“What is _that_?” Kori says, and runs up ahead.

“Kori!” Jason yells after her. He runs after her, until he nearly runs into her back.

It’s an old haunted house, the wood on it rotting and falling down around it. The sign of the ride is faded, and Jason doesn’t want to go in, but Kori is already walking inside.

“ _Kori!_ ” He whispers, and he watches her disappear through the doorway. Jason’s left there, hair standing on the back of his neck. He should follow her, go in after her. Protect her, but he can’t bring his feet to move.

His eyes are playing tricks on him, heart thumping in his chest.

He sucks in a breath and he could _swear_ he just saw Joker in the haunted house window-

Kori’s shout springs him into action, and Jason rushes in. If the Joker’s got hurt, if he _hurt her_ -

“Kori! Koriand’r!” He doesn’t see her anywhere in the haunted house, and Jason’s mad that he didn’t follow her right away. She doesn’t know how dangerous it could be, how dangerous joker is-

Someone shouts from ahead, and he hears the sound of someone hitting a wall. He unholsters his gun.

It’s dark, and he rounds a corner. There’s the sound of someone yelling, and right throw the wall they fly, Kori’s hands and eyes glowing green as she steps over the debris.

“Jason!” She yells, stepping over the debris. The glow of her eyes dims, and Jason trails his guns on them.

It’s a young man who lays in the debris, the worn green hat covering his face. He’s dressed in a red sweatshirt, something too heavy for the mid summer heat.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jason asks, his guns never leaving the man laying there.

He picks his head up, the hat falling from his head to his chest, and the face staring at Jason is horribly familiar, yet, years younger from what Jason remembers.

“Who the fuck are you?” Is his reply and Jason grits his teeth together.

“I asked you first!” Jason denies how his voice cracks when he yells at him, and the other teen _smiles_ at him.

“I asked you second.” He’s enjoying this, Jason thinks, and it takes every ounce in him to not shoot the teen laying in the debris right there.

“ _Enough!_ ” Kori yells, the room glows as she yells, and they both shut up and stare at her.

Jason sighs, and as tempting as it is to shoot the other teen in his stupid _pretty_ face- he stops that thought there.

The other stands, groaning and brushing off dirt and dust from his jeans.

He’s pale from what Jason can see, his ginger buzz cut growing out. He recognizes the face, yet, years older. Jason hates the feeling it stirs up in him, something he’s ignored or maybe just forgotten about after all this time.

“To answer your question,” He says, “The names Roy. And I’ve heard a lot about you.” He smiles, a dangerous grin. Kori tilts her head, confusion written on her face.

“Who has been speaking of us?” She asks, looking at Jason and then back to Roy.

“It’s an expression Kori-” Jason says.

“Our mutual friends from the Light.” Roy says at the same time. Jason’s head whips back to Roy, and glares.

“ _Who_.” he takes a step forward, and Roy takes a step back, carefully avoiding the wood laying around his feet.

“I heard about the Light facility in Brazil.” Roy says, lifting his hands a bit. “I heard two _meta-humans_ destroyed it, and ran here.”

“You are here to take us back?” Kori’s eyes start glowing bright again and Roy’s hands go higher in surrender.

“No! God no!” Roy says, and he lowers them before he speaks, much quieter. “They used me too.” He says, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to show his arm.

Jason and Kori both stare at it, and Jason can't help the whistle he gives at the sleek metal prosthetic. Jason remembers seeing a prototype of that once, very high end and hush hush during an investigation of LexCorp. Roy grimaces, rolling his hood sleeve back down.

“I want to take the Light down, but to do that, I need allies.” He could be lying, Jason thinks. But there’s sincerity in his eyes, and an emotion Jason can’t quite place.

“Who did that to you.” Jason asks, motioning to his arm. Jason already has an idea, but he wants to hear Roy say it. The teen stuffs his hands into his pockets, shrugging.

“Lex Luthor, as a consolation for taking the _real_ one.” There’s a growl in his voice. Kori bristles at the name, her fists tightening.

“And say we do join forces.” She says. “What can you do for us.”

“I was partners with one of the best archers in the world.” Roy shoots back, and he waves his prosthetic hand. “I also have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Jason groans, and Roy laughs. “That’s the worst, worse than my-” He stops himself, and holsters the guns still in his hands.

“If we do this…” Jason starts slowly, “You have to help us first.”

Roy looks over at him. “Do what exactly.”

“We are going to kill the Joker.” Kori says.

Roy stares at the both of them. “The Joker? Really?”

Jason shrugs. "It's something like that." He says, the plan to capture the maniac already forming in his mind. He’s not stupid enough to think that they wouldn’t be stronger without another person.

With the firepower Roy has, they could make quite a team.

“Yeah.” Jason says. “You in?”

"Do you even have a plan?" Roy asks, looking at the both of them. Jason shrugs again and leans against one of the rotting walls.

"I have the makings of one." Jason says. Logically, he knows, that he should take time to think about it, to plan their moves and be careful. But Jason can feel the pit in him, his anger towards his murderer. Towards Bruce. It will work itself out, he tells himself, that everything will be fine. 

The small voice in the back of his head that sound suspiciously like  _Robin_ disagrees.

It was hasty decisions like this that had gotten Jason killed.

Roy snorts, and smiles at the both of them. “Sounds fun, I’m down to cause a little mayhem.”

Kori wraps and arm around Jason and Roy’s shoulders, bringing them together.

“Let us go friends! We shall kill Joker, and then-” She pauses, and looks to the both of them. “What then?”

“We cause some mayhem. And we're not _killing_ him. Not yet.” Jason says, slipping out from her grip. He makes his way towards the entrance of the haunted house.

He hears Roy and Kori following after him, and Roy speaking softly to her.

“Hey I never _did_ get your names-”

* * *

It’s a ‘Where’s Waldo’ game Tim is playing, carefully hacking one camera to the next. He finds footage of Jason slowly, the night before had been stormy, and the camera footage was not the best. 

But Tim pieces it together, all coming together until he’s sitting across from a building. The window of the apartment is opened wide, and Tim slips through quietly. There’s bags packed and resting on the kitchen table, the television screen is shattered.

He dusts for prints, and carefully goes through the apartment. It’s neat, clean, like it had been scrubbed down right before the inhabitants left.

There’s a missing mirror in the bathroom, dried blood on the floor. He scrapes some up for a blood analysis and leaves back into the hall. Picking the lock, an armory branching off from the hallway. Two bedrooms sit in the back. One, a mess of sheets, pillows, and blankets made into some nest on the bed.

The other is neat, tidy, unless you count the cigarette butts littered on the floor. He takes one for evidence.

The entire apartment is nicely decorated, but, there’s nothing personal to it. It functions just enough as a space for living, but it doesn’t really _feel_ lived in.

He hums to himself, exiting the apartment. There’s obvious that more than one person was living there, and Tim fast forwards his footage, catching a glowing, flying figure along with Jason swinging through the buildings.

He smiles to himself, throwing himself from the window and flying through the night.

* * *

The fun house is the center of amusement mile. Once an exciting place for children to go and play, was now the center of the Joker’s plans.

Large and foreboding, it was a terrifying sight. The once cheerful clown that sat on the roof was now grayed, paint chipping and peeling from it. It had been crudely painted over, a devilish red mouth and green hair to match the man who called it home. 

It had the look of an old warehouse, with many floors re-purposed for an exploration of fun.

There was nothing fun in there.

“What if he is not here Jason?” Kori asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Then we keep looking.” He says, eyes scanning the building. The entrance is the obvious choice, too obvious. They’d be walking right into the lions den.

Roy kneels next to him, and points to the roof. “I think one of us should enter from the top.” Roy says finally.

“You mean split up?” Jason asks, and Roy nods.

“We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Jason hates it, but he’s right.

“Jason I am not… sitting well, with leaving you alone.” Kori’s looking at him, and it hurts to look away from her.

“I’ll be okay Kori.” he says, and draws a diagram on the ground.

“There’s three entrances we can use. The roof,” Jason says, pointing to a chimney he’s drawn in the dirt. “The employee exit, in the back of the building, and a window on the left, that leads into a supply room.”

He continues drawing out a diagram, pulling blueprints that he vaguely remembered from when he did investigations with Bruce.

“I can take the back exit, and search the ground floor. Kori, you take the side entrance.” Kori nods at that, and stands straight.

“Roy, you take the roof. Kori’s a bit too big to fit through.” Jason says, and Roy shrugs at that.

“And you’re not? Last I saw, you’re shorter than me _and_ her.” Jason glares at him, trying not to bristle at the comment.

“Going in from the roof will give _you_ the advantage you need, as both an archer, and with your arm as a fucking weapon. If someone’s there, you can pick them off from high up.” He motions to Roy’s backpack.

“I’m guessing you have a crossbow in there? Because why else would you be lugging something that big around anyways.”

Roy frowns, and shrugs.

“Well, do you?” Kori’s eyes are on Roy now too, and the other shrugs.

“Okay I’ll take the roof, alright?” They leave it at that.

“If he’s not there, we regroup here. Search each floor thoroughly, but be careful, who knows what Joker’s keeping in there.” The other teens nod, and they’re each off.

Roy slips through the chimney with little trouble. There’s a large hole in the brick, leading straight into the attic. It’s a storeroom, Roy notices at first glance. Old furniture and props left up there, dusty and lost to time. Multiple white mannequins decorate the room, grotesque faces painted on.

It unnerves him, and he shrugs his backpack off, taking out his collapsible crossbow. The bolts are small, easy enough to fit in the pockets of his jeans, and he heads down the stairs. The building is dusty, rotting wood creaking with each step Roy takes. It puts him on edge, and he has to stop and take a deep breath multiple times.

He explores the third floor carefully, ducking into old rooms and finding strange Joker knick knacks everywhere. It seems as if the funhouse was modeled after an old manor on the inside, different bedrooms everywhere.

And it’s all empty.

A loud blast from below him causes Roy to gasp, and fast as he can, makes his way to the second floor.

Where he walks straight into Kori, nearly screaming from the surprise.

“Kori!” Roy snaps through grit teeth. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Friend Roy!” She says, a cheerful smile on her features. “I scared the… feces? From you?”

That throws him in for a loop, and he takes a moment of silence, looking up at the giant woman before speaking.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

“Crap, another word for feces,” she’s smiling as she says this to him. “I have heard it use, such as when,” She puffs out her chest, and deepens her voice as she speaks. “ _No! I stepped in dog crap!_ ” She straightens herself out again, and smiles down at him.

“I. I cannot argue with that.” He shakes his head and looks past her, wincing as he sees the still smoldering door.

“What happened….?” He asks, motioning towards it.

“Oh,” Kori looks at where she’s pointing. “Well, I could not get the door open, so I blasted it.”

Roy grimaces, and nods. “Sounds solid Kori. You uh… find anything yet.” At that, the woman shakes her head.

“Not yet.” There’s a frown on her face, and Roy nudges her with her arm, a smile on his.

“Well… let’s look together.” he says, and Kori nods.

They walk slowly with each other, checking the halls and rooms, and it’s not much different than what Roy had, minus the large study looking out over the floor. Large double doors and tinted windows decorate it, and the double stairway leading up to the second floor sit in front of it. There’s a good view of the entrance from the study, and it’s next on their list when they hear fighting from downstairs.

“Jason!” Kori gasps, already flying down the stairs.

“Kori, wait!” Roy whispers harshly, already running after her.

They run into a large room in the back of the building. It looks like a warehouse, old boxes stacked. Props sat broken and turned over all around, along with old trucks waiting to be driven away.

Roy steps through quietly, his crossbow trailing the room as he looks. Kori looks around frantically, and he can practically hear her heart beating a mile a minute.

He kneels down, reaching to brush something off the floor. There’s fresh blood staining his fingers, and a sinking feeling in Roy’s gut. He looks up, Kori’s name on his lips but stops when she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Kori…?” He asks quietly, standing. She’s gone, as if she up and disappeared in thin air.

“Kori!” Roy doesn’t mean for the frantic edge his voice takes on, but he can’t _see_ her. She’s just gone.

Looking around, he can see a door swinging shut slowly. She must have gone through there, trying to find him.

He rushes after her. If he was going to be a team with these guys, then he really had to show them how to work together _well._

He’s ready to scold her, door swinging open, but stops dead in his tracks.

She’s slumped over on the ground, red hair pooling around her.

Jason’s there too, rope tied around his wrists and legs, red blood staining the white fringe in his hair.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” There’s a horrible giggle from behind him, and Roy turns, taking in the death white face, the blood red lips turned up into a vicious grin.

The eyes are the eyes of a madman, chilling Roy to the very bone.

He doesn’t even register the crowbar coming down onto his heading, knocking him out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! i had a lot of trouble with this chapter, especially the first meeting between all three of them. i do hope you guys enjoy!!!!
> 
> i really did have fun writing this though. originally i also had them fighting their way out, but it would have become too long if i did that
> 
> a little update as well!!! this wednesday im going to be leaving for florida for two weeks!!! going to disney, meeting up with family, meeting friends i have known for six years but have not had the actual pleasure to meet in person- a lot on my plate. im going to try and work on this while im there, but theres no promises. 
> 
> however i would like to put out that i do have a twitter where i talk about aus and wips and such in the likes, as well as updates! if thats something any of you are interested in, please give me a follow @CommanderTabris on twitter!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! this has been a fic thats been working itself around my head for a while, and while i havent forgotten the fic w/ terry being adopted by bruce, my muse for that hasnt been at the best atm
> 
> this fic is essentially, what i imagine red hood and the outlaws would be in the young justice verse. disclaimer: i have not read an issue of rhato in my life. doesnt matter tho! this is extremely canon divergent, something myself and my friend have both been interested in and talked about. 
> 
> essentially its shitty teenagers jason roy and kori causing mayhem and trying to find some sort of peace and family in each other. there will be some canon smudging, esp with kori since shes not in the show, and roys age maybe. 
> 
> i havent decided yet.
> 
> whatever happens though, i hope you guys enjoy this.


End file.
